


Lost & Found

by xXdreameaterXx



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Amnesia, F/M, Family Drama, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-03 07:36:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 42
Words: 58,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10239152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXdreameaterXx/pseuds/xXdreameaterXx
Summary: Clara and John Smith have everything they could possibly want: each other's love, a nice house, jobs and wonderful plans for their future together. Until Clara receives a call that is going to change everything and she finds her life derailing between a husband who doesn't remember her, a troubling twin sister and more new complications. Memory Loss AU.





	1. Chapter 1

“Good morning, love,” John whispered softly before he bent down and placed a gentle kiss on his wife's forehead. He watched her smile and shift in the sheets and for a moment John thought she was getting more beautiful with every passing day. He was lucky, so insanely lucky to have her. Sometimes John would even go so far as to say he was the luckiest man on earth to be where he was, to have a wife like Clara after everything he had been through. Even if it sounded cheesy, she was the light of his life and he had never expected to love her or for her to love him back. For once things had played out exactly like he had hoped.  
“Morning,” Clara mumbled sleepily and stretched her arms while she smiled at him. Even on the worst of days that smile could make him feel better because John knew that at the end of the day he would fall asleep with Clara in his arms.  
“Happy anniversary,” he said and set a tray filled with breakfast food down between them.  
Clara instantly reached for the single rose in the small vase and smelled it. “This is perfect,” she hummed, “ _You_ are perfect.”  
John sank back into the pillows and stuffed a strawberry into his mouth. “So, no regrets then? Even a year later?”  
She chuckled. “Well, now that you mention it-”  
He didn't let her finish. Instead he bent forward across the tray and kissed her on the lips, a deep, soft kiss. It was strange how he still felt that warm glow whenever he kissed her even after five years.  
“I've planned a little something for tonight,” John said, smiling at her once they parted lips.  
Clara reached for a grape and put it in her mouth, looking thoughtful. “Mhhh, is it Netflix and chill?”  
John growled at her in reply. “You think I'm that cheap? Fine, I'll take back the dress and cancel the dinner reservation,” he teased, “If you're so easily pleased, we'll do Netflix and chill.”  
Clara pouted at him before her features turned hopeful. “We could do both?”  
“Both sounds perfect,” he chuckled and kissed her again.  
“Perfect husband,” Clara said to him, smiling broadly as she reached for the collar of his pyjamas and pulled him closer.  
“Perfect wife,” he replied and then noticed that one of his sleeves was being dunked into the tea, “Uh, careful.”  
“I think this conversation is the very reason our friends all hate us,” she laughed while he carefully pushed the tray aside.  
Once that was out of the way, John climbed on top of her. “They can go to hell,” he growled and lowered his lips to her neck, kissing that spot that he had learned usually put his wife in the mood in a matter of minutes.  
“John, do we have time for this?” he heard her ask, followed by a gasping sound.  
“Sure,” he mumbled against her skin, “If I run to work.”  
They both giggled when Clara pulled the covers over both their heads and he kissed her lips again. It was the perfect start for a perfect wedding anniversary and John didn't think he could love his wife more.

* * *

Clara walked into the school building with a broad smile on her face and she didn't care that her students were all staring at her, probably laughing at her good mood. She simply didn't care. She still was as madly in love with John as she had been on the day they had finally found each other and right now Clara thought that these feelings would never ever go away. He was the man of her dreams. He was perfect for her in every way. And maybe, just maybe the one wish they still had would finally come true soon. They hadn't talked about it in a while, thinking it might bring bad luck to hope too much, but maybe they would finally have a child soon.  
John had first brought it up during their wedding night and it had come as a huge surprise to her. When Clara had agreed to marry him she had almost said goodbye to the idea of ever having children, mainly because John was older than herself and she hadn't thought he would want to go through the trouble and the sleepless nights, but he had surprised her once more. One day it would work out, Clara was sure of it, and nine months later they would be a proper family. Clara smiled at the thought of that. Maybe it had already worked.

“Courtney, watch it!” Clara yelled across the corridor when she noticed one of her more unruly students push her way through the crowd. “No shoving the others around!”  
“Miss?”  
She turned her head and spotted one of her favourite pupils walking right next to her. Tobias was a good boy, very clever and he had a knack for literature. Some days he was the only one actually paying attention in class.  
“Yes, Tobias, can I help you?” she asked him in a friendly manner.  
“I, uhm, I was just wondering whether you've graded the last test,” he said coyly.  
Clara cleared her throat and bent down a little. “You've got an A+. Well done,” she whispered with a smile.  
The boy's face lit up immediately. “Thank you, miss!”  
“Now off you pop,” she told him, “See you in the assembly hall.”  
Hopefully her child with John would turn out more like Tobias and less like Courtney Woods.

Then suddenly, as she was just on her way to drop her bag in her classroom, the headmaster stepped into her path and he wore a rather gloomy look on his face.  
“Mrs Smith,” Mr Armitage said grimly, “There is a phone call for you at my office.”  
Clara knitted her eyebrows at him. “But I've only just arrived.”  
“Please, come with me.”  
With no other choice left Clara followed him through the school corridors, wondering what the mysterious phone call could possibly be. She had never before received a call at school and she had no idea what it could possibly be about.  
Only that wasn't entirely true. A long time ago, when Clara had only been 16 and still a student, she _had_ received a call at school and her stomach turned into a knot at the memory of it. She remembered her grandmother's broken voice, her father sobbing in the background, her sister slamming a door. That was the day her mother had died.  
Clara stepped inside the headmaster's office, now feeling a little nervous as Mr Armitage closed the door, leaving her completely on her own. The phone was lying there on his desk, waiting to be picked up, and reluctantly Clara stepped forward and answered the call.  
“Hello, this is Mrs Smith speaking,” she said and noticed how her voice wavered more than she would have expected.  
“Hello Mrs Smith,” a friendly female voice answered, but there was an undertone to it that Clara didn't like at all, “I am Dr Martha Jones from the Royal Hope Hospital.”  
And just like that Clara's heart sank into her boots before she had even heard the rest.  
“I'm afraid there's been an accident.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys sooooooo much for the first comments and kudos on this story :) I'm glad you're enjoying the angst already. And now, to confuse you, chapter two:

**5 Years Ago**

“Hello, I can't find the internet,” Clara complained as soon someone had finally picked up the phone after what felt like a thousand rings. She needed to finish her thesis and for that she needed internet of some sort. She was already behind on her work and it seemed as if the universe had conspired against her.  
“Uhm, excuse me?” The voice was male with a hint of a Scottish accent and it sounded husky as if from sleep.  
“This is a helpline, isn't it?” Clara asked, trying to keep down her anger. No wonder it took them so long to pick up the phone when they were sleeping on the job.  
The man needed a moment before he eventually replied. “Why? Do you have a medical emergency?”  
“A medical what? No, I'm just trying to fix the internet.”  
There was a sigh on the other end of the line. “I'm sorry, I'm afraid you've got the wrong number.”  
“Oh,” Clara uttered after a moment and looked down at the small note the woman in the shop had written down for her. She was 100 percent sure that she had dialled the right one, even double checking it before hitting the green button, so they must have given her the wrong number to begin with. “I'm sorry. The woman at the shop must have given me the wrong one.”  
“What shop? What woman?” the man wanted to know. Clara couldn't quite place the tone of his voice. Curious? Angry?  
“Just some woman at the electronics shop, said it was the best helpline out there. I'm sorry if I've bothered you. I'm just trying to finish my thesis here and the bloody internet won't cooperate,” she cursed nervously, “Sorry again.”  
“Well, you've successfully woken me up,” the man said and Clara could hear shuffling in the background, “I might as well try to help you now. What seems to be the problem?”  
“Oh, no, you really don't have to. I'll just find a real helpline and kill the woman at the shop the next time I see her,” Clara argued immediately.  
“I might kill her first,” he sighed, “Tell me, was she Scottish?”  
“Yep, that's her. Very Scottish. Long, dark hair, looked very pleased with herself. But you really don't have to help me,” she protested.  
“Go and find the router, will you?”  
With a sigh Clara rose from her seat and stomped off in the direction of the corridor. She felt just a tiny bit guilty for having woken a strange man from his sleep and the fact that he was still determined to help her with her own, personal problems didn't really aid to make that guilt go away. Then again, she had a deadline to stick to and she was desperate.

“What's your name?” Clara asked as she walked down the stairs.  
“John Smith. Yours?”  
“Clara Oswald,” she replied, “And how did you know the woman at the shop was Scottish? Do you know her?”  
There was a deep sigh on the other end of the line and Clara raised an eyebrow when he didn't answer immediately. “Unfortunately, I do. That was my friend Missy and she likes to play tricks on me. I have the theory that she wakes up in the morning and goes _'How can I annoy John on this fine day?'_ ”  
“I'm sorry,” Clara chuckled as she imagined a grown woman playing jokes on her equally grown up friend. She didn't have many good friends and her best one was currently backpacking across the globe with her new husband. She missed Amy dearly and made a mental note to call her tomorrow.  
“Don't worry, you couldn't have known,” John reassured her.  
Clara stopped in front of the router, only to realize that the device seemed utterly foreign to her. She didn't know a thing about how it worked or what she was supposed to do with it. Not to mention that it wasn't even her own house and she was afraid of breaking something.  
“Well, I'm at the router now,” she said, “It looks. . . intact.”  
“Intact?” the man laughed at her.  
“Well, it looks like a router should look like, I suppose. It hasn't exploded or anything.”  
He chuckled. “You don't know much about that stuff, do you?”  
“Not really my area of expertise, no, but I know the whole Jane Austen biography. You can quiz me on that.”  
“ _It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife_ ,” John quoted and suddenly the sound of his deep, gravelly voice in combination with his accent made Clara shiver. She felt herself blush. Did he really have to quote her favourite author, exploiting the one weakness she had?  
“You know Jane Austen?” she asked, smiling to herself. Why was she feeling nervous all of a sudden? Because a strange man on the phone, who, by the way, had a damn erotic voice, quoted one of her favourite books?  
“I've read a bit here and there,” he replied matter-of-factly.  
The smile on her face only widened. “And are you a single man in want of a wife?”  
Clara instantly felt the urge to clap her hand over her mouth. If John Smith was friends with the woman at the shop, he must be older and he was most certainly married. She couldn't possibly flirt with him. But damn, he had quoted Jane.  
She heard him clear his throat. “Now, Miss Oswald, let's focus here. The router,” he reminded her.  
“Yes,” she said, “Yes, uhm, there's a row of green lights and they're blinking.”  
“They shouldn't do that. Try to unplug the router for five seconds and then plug it back in,” John suggested.  
Clara raised her eyebrows. “Isn't that just a variation of have you tried switching it off and back on?”  
He laughed in response. “Yes, I suppose it is, but it does the trick with the router I have at home.”  
“Okay, I'm gonna try that.” Clara took a deep breath and pulled the plug out of the socket. The lights all went of. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. She plugged it back in. It took a moment, but eventually the lights lit back up. “They're all on now, only one of them blinking.”  
“And that's how it should be. Congratulations, Miss Oswald, you've found the internet,” John said, the amusement over her expression from earlier all too audible in his voice.  
“Shut up,” Clara giggled, “Thank you for your help. You saved my thesis.”  
“What's it on?” he asked.  
“Uhm,” she hesitated, biting down on her lip, “Jane Austen.”  
“ _Give a girl an education and introduce her properly into the world, and ten to one but she has the means of settling well, without further expense to anybody._ ”  
Once more Clara giggled, the heat instantly returning to her cheeks. “Do you want to write my thesis for me?”  
“Nah, I think I'm gonna pass, but good luck with that. I'm sure you'll do great,” John said and he sounded sincere, “It was nice talking to you.”  
“And to you,” Clara smiled into her phone, “Thank you.”

Once he had hung up Clara walked back upstairs to the room she currently occupied and only when she sank down in her chair did she realize that the smile was still stuck on her face. She tried to tell herself that John Smith was probably a lot older than herself, that he was most likely married, that he might look like an oaf, but as her gaze fell on the small piece of paper with his number written on it, Clara knew that she wanted to talk to him again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the lovely comments :) We'll have a few more flashbacks, but for now back to the action. . .

Clara was only half aware of the crowds and all the people trying to push past her even though she was in a hurry herself. And had the Tube always been that slow? It felt slow today and she had the vague impression that they had added a few more stops as well. When she finally stepped back out into the fresh air, she felt as if a century had passed. The hospital was just across the street and Clara darted inside as quickly as her feet would allow until she eventually came to a half in front of the reception desk.  
“My husband has been admitted to this hospital earlier,” she blurted out without even greeting the woman first, “His name is John Smith.”  
The receptionist looked bored and lazily raised an eyebrow while she opened a folder. “That's gonna take a while.”  
“His middle name is Basil,” Clara said impatiently, “Though he probably left that one out.”  
“Ah,” the woman said, “John Basil Smith. You'll have to go to ward C and ask someone from the staff there.”  
Clara nodded, taking a deep breath for the first time. John was here. Everything was going to be fine. She found ward C easily enough, just following the signs plastered all over the hospital walls, but once she had reached the doors, Clara came to an abrupt halt.

_Intensive Care Unit_

She read the sign on the door over and over again. ICU. That was bad. That was really bad. But he couldn't be dead, Clara determined. If he was, they would have told her at the reception desk.  
Unless the woman there didn't know.  
Clara inhaled sharply and stepped inside, promptly crashing into a young woman wearing a lab coat.  
“Oh my God, I'm sorry,” she apologized instantly, “I'm sorry.”  
“It's okay,” the doctor reassured her in a friendly manner, “Nothing happened. Can I help you with anything?”  
“Yeah,” Clara breathed, “I, uhm, I'm looking for my husband. I got a call that he's been admitted to the hospital, to this ward. John Smith.”  
The young doctor's features changed in an instant and Clara felt her heart sink. She knew that look. She had seen it before.  
“Your husband is alive,” the woman reassured her. The shock must have been so plain on her face. “I'm the person who called you, Dr Martha Jones.”  
Clara sighed in relief. Alive. John was alive. It was going to be okay.  
“How is he? Can I see him?” she asked immediately.  
Dr Jones hesitated for an awfully long moment. “Your husband was in a car accident this morning. A driver hit him when he was crossing the road and he was injured.”  
“Injured? What kind of injuries?!” Clara demanded to know.  
“Mrs Smith, I want you to know that we're doing everything we can to help your husband and so far it's looking quite good,” Martha Jones granted her a soft smile, “He's responding to the treatment as expected.”  
“Can you please stop beating about the bush and tell me what in God's name happened to my husband?! What's wrong with him?!” Clara yelled at the doctor and instantly bit down on her lip, surprised at the volume of her own voice. She felt panic. Pure panic. John was hurt and she had no idea what was happening.  
“A fracture to the femur, the thigh bone,” Dr Jones explained, “We will have to fix that surgically at some point, but that's not what worries us. He suffered a traumatic brain injury from the impact and his brain started to swell, so, for the moment, we decided to put him into a medically induced coma.”  
“ _A coma?!_ ”  
“It's just what it's called, Mrs Smith,” the doctor said in an infuriatingly calm manner, “What we really did was that we gave him an anaesthetic and he's asleep for the moment. A swelling of the brain can result in long-term damage and we're trying to avoid that by shutting it off and giving it time to heal properly. Mr Smith is responding as we had hoped. His brain has stopped to swell any further. Now we're waiting for the swelling to recede.”  
Clara needed a moment to take in everything the doctor had just told her and she knew enough about the subject to tell that John was not out of the woods yet, that Martha Jones was trying to put it as nicely as possible, but he was still in danger.  
She swallowed hard. She couldn't think about that now. He was going to be fine. He had to be. “How long do you think that's gonna take?”  
Dr Jones gave a light shrug. “That's hard to say at the moment. I think tomorrow we'll be able to tell you a bit more after observing him for a while. He might respond immediately and the swelling could be gone in a day or two. Or it might take longer. We're doing our best, Mrs Smith. Do you want to see him?”  
“Am I allowed?” Clara asked in surprise.  
Martha Jones smiled sincerely. “Of course. He needs rest now above all, but a few minutes won't hurt. Follow me.”

After she had been handed a light, sterile paper gown, Clara threw it over her jacket and followed the young doctor through the corridors, not knowing whether she should be relieved or scared. John was alive, but he was critical. She had no idea what to expect.  
Martha Jones opened the door to one of the rooms, but hesitated to step inside. She turned around to look at Clara, still smiling softly. Clara thought that John was probably very lucky to be in the hands of someone like Dr Jones. She was young, but she seemed to know what she was doing and she was compassionate. Many doctors forgot all about compassion the longer they worked in a place like this.  
“Before you go in I'd like to ask you some more questions, if that's okay? Don't worry, it's just the standard stuff.”  
Clara nodded in reply.  
“Does your husband have any allergies that you know of?”  
“No, none.” She shook her head.  
Martha Jones took the pen out of her coat pocket and scribbled something on the little board she was holding in her hands. “And is he on any medication?”  
Again Clara shook her head, but then she thought of something. “Well, he used to take something for his blood pressure, but he's been off them for two years now.”  
A small frown appeared on the doctor's face. “Was there a specific cause for his hypertension?”  
“Stress mostly,” Clara shrugged. She thought back to the days when she had first met John and how tired he had always seemed, how she had scolded him for his 4th cup of coffee, how he had been working himself into an early grave. Things had changed a lot in the past five years.  
“Hypertension doesn't normally go away on its own,” Martha Jones noted.  
“He switched jobs, opened his own practice. I made him cut down on the coffee and forced him to eat his veggies,” Clara let out a short laugh, “It got better over the years. And then he didn't the meds anymore.”  
“I'll make a note of this just in case,” Dr Jones told her, “That would be all for now. You can go on and see him.”

Nervously Clara stepped into the room and only heard Dr Jones close the door behind her. Her eyes, however, were fixed on John. Clara had a hard time believing that the man on the bed was actually her husband. He looked smaller than he normally did, there was a bandage wrapped around his head and he had cables attached to him all over his body, leading to an array of beeping, whirring machines. Clara pulled up a chair and sat down next to him and for the longest moment she just looked at his face. John had some cuts and bruises, but if it hadn't been for the cables, she might have believed that he was merely asleep. He looked peaceful.  
“Didn't they teach you to look right and left before crossing the road?” Clara asked him with a sigh and reached for his hand. It was cool. Not cold, but very much unlike the warm, soft hands that had touched her just hours ago.  
Of course there was no answer from John. He didn't even flinch when she took his hand.  
“You know,” she giggled nervously, “I've been meaning to confess this for a while now. I guess this is the perfect moment, huh? You can't get mad at me. But when we first met, that wasn't exactly bad luck on my part. I helped make it happen. I asked Artie to tamper with the router so I would have a reason to call you again. There, I said it.”  
Yet John showed no reaction. He simply lay there, unmoving, and the only sound Clara could hear was the beeping from the machines they had hooked him up to. She let her head sink and even though she tried to fight it, a tear rolled down her cheek. And then another. 

When Martha Jones entered the room Clara was sobbing mercilessly until she felt a soft hand on her shoulder. She was told to go home, to rest and to come back tomorrow when they could tell her more about his condition. Dr Jones remained calm and friendly the entire time while she told her that they were doing everything to help John and that all she could do was wait. They would call as soon if there was any change and Clara knew that if the phone should ring in the middle of the night, it couldn't be anything but bad news. She went home and braced herself for a long, sleepless night, praying that the phone would stay silent.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awwwwwww :) Thank you guys! It makes me so incredibly happy to know that I've got you hooked already. Almost makes me feel bad about the angst I'm going to put you through. . . almost.

**5 Years Ago**

 

“Artie, I need a favour,” Clara half whispered when she had pulled the boy into the kitchen, away from the rest of the family who were still having breakfast in the living room. After a phone call with her best friend Amy and some advice she probably shouldn't follow, Clara had come up with a plan, but she needed someone with technical skill to help her carry it out. Artie seemed like exactly the right person to turn to.  
The boy raised both his eyebrows at her, looking more than a little doubtful.  
“I need you to sabotage the router for me,” she told him, “Make it so it can't connect to the internet but, you know, like, doesn't break permanently. And it shouldn't be an easy fix like just plugging it out and back in again.”  
“Right, you're crazy” Artie said and shook his head before he started to make his way back into the living room.  
“Wait,” Clara said and caught him by the sleeve at the last moment, “I'm serious and I need you to do this for me.”  
“And why should I do that?” he asked, eyeing her with his suspicion.  
Clara put her arms akimbo, looking down at him. “Because otherwise your Dad might find that video game I helped you buy that isn't quite yet suitable for your age.”  
Artie let out a groan. “That's blackmail.”  
She shrugged. “I'd like to think of it as more of a _I did you a favour, now you're doing me one_ situation. So, can you do it before school?” Clara granted him a hopeful smile.  
Artie simply rolled his eyes, dropped his schoolbag on the floor and trudged off into the corridor to where the router was. Clara put on a smug smile. Part one of her plan had worked.

She waited patiently until the children had left for school and Mr Maitland had gone to work for the day before Clara reached for her phone and unfolded the little piece of paper that she had kept on her pin board all week. She had glanced at it every day, telling herself that as soon as she had finished the rough draft of her thesis, she would call John Smith again. Now the moment had finally come and Clara felt just a little bit nervous even though she couldn't quite understand why. She didn't even know what the man looked like. She knew nothing about him other than his voice and that he could quote Jane Austen. But over the course of the last few days Clara had decided that those facts were enough and he was definitely worth another call.  
“Dr John Smith?” he answered the phone only a few rings later. His voice sounded tired once more and Clara happily noted that she could add one more fact to her list – he was a doctor.  
“Hi,” she said nervously, “This is Clara Oswald.”  
“Ah, router girl,” he said and she could hear some amusement in his voice, “How's the thesis going?”  
He remembered. He actually remembered their conversation. Something about that fact made Clara's heart skip a little beat.  
“It's going well, thanks to you,” Clara replied, “No thanks to the router though. I'm sorry to call you again.”  
John chuckled. “Have you tried to unplug it?” he asked.  
“I have, and it's not working,” Clara complained, hoping that it really wasn't working. She had given Artie the instruction to make it so, but she hadn't bothered to double check.  
“Have you tried resetting it?” John wanted to know.  
Clara sighed audibly. “I think I did? I'm not sure,” she lied, trying to sound as desperate as possible, “I've tried phoning the helpline. The real one. But they just put me on hold for almost an hour and then kicked me out. I have no idea how to do this computer. . . stuff.”  
John paused for a moment and Clara wasn't sure what was going to happen next. Would he tell her off for pestering him? Would he tell her to never call him again? Maybe she should have just asked him out instead of starting this silly game.  
“Where do you live, Clara?”  
His question took her by surprise. “Uhm,” she hesitated, not really sure why he was asking, “Herne Hill. That's where I'm currently staying.”  
“Mh, that's not far,” he said, “Listen, can you send your address to my phone? Uhm, that is if you're comfortable with a random stranger coming over to have a look at your router.”  
“Of course,” Clara blurted out instantly. This was working out a lot better than she had expected. All she had really been hoping for was that he would help her over the phone and that they would have more time to get to know reach other, but she was very much okay with his suggestion as well. “Of course I am.”  
“Not exactly the answer I've been hoping to hear,” John said warily, “Don't invite strangers into your home.”  
Clara giggled. “Why? Are you an axe murderer?”  
“I could be,” he argued.  
“Doubt it,” she replied, “Do you prefer tea or coffee?”  
“Triple espresso. Made with Red Bull,” he replied. “I'll be there in about 20 or 30 minutes.”  
“Filling the Red Bull into the coffee maker as we speak,” she joked.

After they had hung up Clara texted him her address and set out to prepare the coffee and biscuits. She made it strong, but she doubted that John would actually expect it to be made with Red Bull. When everything was ready and Clara had double checked that unplugging the router really wouldn't bring the internet back, she allowed herself to take a deep breath. She was nervous, properly nervous. The man with the nice voice who had quoted Jane Austen to her a few days ago was on his way to her house and Clara had no idea what to expect at all. Then the doorbell rang and she knew that the moment had come. Either he would meet her expectations or not. She opened the door.  
The man on her doorstep was probably in his early 50s, lean and tall and he had a curly mess of grey hair on top of his head while his chin was framed by an equally grey beard. His eyes were blue or green or grey, Clara couldn't quite tell. They had the colour of a stormy day out on the ocean. His smile was shy and boyish. Clara immediately determined that he was good looking and she definitely liked what she saw.  
Then she noticed another thing. The lines on his face, the dark circles under his eyes. He seemed exhausted and all of a sudden she understood why he had asked for a triple espresso. She also felt a little bad for making him come all the way to her house when he was obviously tired, but when he smiled at her Clara's guilty conscience went out of the window.  
“John Smith?” she asked and returned his smile.  
“You must be router girl,” he replied.  
“Shush,” she whispered, “That's my secret superhero name. To the world I am Clara Oswald.”  
John chuckled. “Of course. Don't want to reveal your secret identity to the neighbours,” he said, “Alright, where is the patient?”  
Clara waved him inside the house and shortly after John went to work on the device Artie had tampered with only hours ago while she set out to make a cup of coffee and prayed that John wouldn't realize she had staged the connectivity issues.  
“Do you always do this sort of thing?” Clara found herself asking as she watched him work. The way he bent over to get a proper look at the cable mess gave her a nice view on his arse. She smirked. John seemed to have a really nice body as well as a nice, classic sense of dress.  
“Special service for helpless Jane Austen fans,” he explained and something happened to the router because a few seconds later the lights went off only to come back on, “There, should work now.”  
John turned around to look at her and Clara handed him his coffee mug with a smile.  
“Thank you so much. You saved my thesis – again,” she giggled nervously. It was a blatant lie because she was almost done with it except for the proofreading and some minor alterations, but this little trick had definitely been worth the effort. John Smith was here and when Clara looked at him she had this funny feeling inside her stomach, that little itch that told her she liked him.  
“Is there a way I can say thank you?” she asked, beaming at him.  
John let out a laugh. “I believe you just did.”  
“No, I mean buy you a coffee or something,” Clara suggested and then she watched as he raised his coffee mug. They both laughed a little more and she tried her best not to feel like a silly idiot who was crushing on a man she had only just met.  
“Okay,” she giggled, “How about I raise that to coffee and chips?”  
The smile faded from John's lips as his face took on a more serious expression. Something about that told her she was going to be snubbed by him. “I'd love to, Clara, really, but my work schedule doesn't really leave much time for a social life. I mostly work night shifts at the hospital.”  
“Oh,” she uttered and her disappointment must have been obvious because John continued almost immediately.  
“Unless you can get an afternoon off?” he asked hopefully.  
Clara beamed at him. “No problem,” she said and was happy to see that the smile returned to his face. She had a date and she was determined to do everything she could so it wouldn't be a one-off. John Smith was good looking, nice, a Jane Austen fan and he didn't have a ring on his finger. Clara would be stupid to let that one go.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments :) And because Clara isn't suffering enough, let's add trouble. . .

“I've been thinking about something,” Clara told him in a hushed voice while she held his hand, squeezing it gently, “You still haven't taken me to Glasgow and you've been promising me for years that you would show me your home town. And then there's the matter of children. As long as we haven't raised any kids together, I can't let you go. You can't leave me. Do you hear that, John? We have plans, so you better recover.”  
John showed no reaction at all and Clara felt a little silly to talk to him when he wasn't responding in the slightest. What were the chances that he could even hear her? But Dr Jones had encouraged her to talk to him, yet Clara got the impression that it was only meant to make herself feel better.  
The door to his room opened and a few moments later her grandmother stepped inside, smiling kindly and holding a cup of tea in her direction.  
“Is that allowed in here?” Clara asked with her eyebrows raised.  
Her grandmother merely shrugged. “No one stopped me,” she explained as she handed Clara the mug, “Then again, no one saw me either.”  
She smiled weakly in response before she took a sip from her tea and her grandmother pulled up a chair next to her.  
“I met Dr Jones on my way to the cafeteria though,” her grandmother explained, “She wants to talk to you about the surgery later.”  
Clara nodded and continued to drink her tea, yet she was aware that there was something odd about her grandma's posture. She had already noticed earlier today. It was as if there was something on her mind and she wasn't sure whether she should share it with Clara or not.  
“Is there any other news?” Clara asked casually.  
Her grandmother shifted uncomfortably in her seat.  
“You can tell me,” she said, turning to look at her grandmother, but she avoided her gaze.  
“I don't want to burden you unnecessarily,” she replied gravely, “You've already got enough on your plate.”  
Clara set the mug down with a sigh. “Yeah, cause telling me that there is something, but not telling me what it is so I can't worry about it won't worry me at all. I'll sleep like a baby tonight, not wondering about what it is that you're not telling me.”  
“Bonnie,” her grandmother said simply.  
Clara's head shot around in an instant, her eyes wide. That was the last thing she would have expected right now.  
“She's in town and she called to let me know.”  
“Huh,” Clara huffed, “I thought she'd be in prison by now.”  
“She was. She's out now, says she has changed,” her grandmother told her, her voice utterly calm.  
“I don't care,” she replied angrily, “Bonnie has made it very clear that she doesn't care about our family. She made it clear when she refused to go to Mum's funeral, she made it clear when she ran away from home. I haven't heard a word from her since then. No call, no card, not for Christmas, not for any birthday, not for my wedding. I don't care whether she's changed or not. She can stay the hell away from me.”  
“She's your sister,” her granny argued.  
“I don't have a sister,” Clara spat back, “I had one until she decided not to give a shit about me or you or Mum and Dad. You can meet her over coffee if you like, but you'll only be disappointment in the end when she lets you down again.”

It was unbelievable that her sister had the audacity to return and even contact her grandmother after everything that had happened in the past, but Clara knew one thing for certain: she would _never_ forgive Bonnie.  
Her sister had always been difficult, but the typical stubborn behaviour of a teenager was surpassed after their mother's death. Clara could still remember vividly how she had stood in her sister's room, wearing a new black dress, begging and pleading with Bonnie to attend the funeral. Her sister had done nothing but turn up the volume of her music.  
Then, when they had been 16, Bonnie had started to hang out with the wrong crowd. Left wing extremists, anarchists, troublemakers. After they had been caught vandalizing a building, their father had seen no other way than to ground his almost grown up daughter. Over night Bonnie had packed her things and vanished, never to be heard from again. Until now.  
“Why?” Clara asked plainly, “Why now?”  
When her grandmother looked back at her, appearing so uncomfortable and apologetic, Clara had her answer and she could hardly believe it to be true.  
“You’ve been in contact the whole time?!”  
“No, not the whole time,” her granny replied calmly, “Only for the past few months. She called me from prison, said she was sorry and asked if I would meet her over coffee once she was released.”  
Clara exhaled sharply, still unable to wrap her head around the fact that her sister was back and trying to make contact, but she wouldn't give in, not after everything Bonnie had done to this family.  
“You weren't there, grandma, not all the time,” she explained, “The things she said to me, to Dad,. . . I can't just pretend they never happened. I know she was a teenager and maybe she really has changed, but that change comes a little too late for me.”

A knock on the door interrupted whatever her grandmother had intended to say and Dr Martha Jones stepped inside the room only moments later, wearing a light smile on her face. Clara was relieved to see it because somehow she instantly got the feeling that there would be good news – and she was in dire need of hearing something positive.  
“I have good news,” Martha Jones confirmed instantly, “We've reviewed the latest ICP results and we're glad to see that the brain swelling has started to recede.”  
Clara breathed a sigh of relief as soon as she heard her say it. “That's wonderful,” she replied, smiling broadly, “When will you wake him up?”  
“If everything goes according to our expectations, in two or three days. But before we do that we would like to perform the surgery to fix his leg. Like I said, his thigh bone is fractured.”  
“Won't it heal on its own?” Clara asked.  
In reply Dr Jones handed her the x-ray which Clara thought must belong to John and on it she could clearly see the problem, even as a layman.  
“We need to bring both ends of the fracture back together,” Martha Jones explained, pointing at the fractured bone that would definitely need some medical assistance to grow back together, “We'll fix it internally. The process is called osteosynthesis, but don't worry. The surgery is standard and there are very few things than could go wrong. If we do this, your husband will be able to resume normal activities once it's fully healed.”  
“Alright,” she eventually agreed and glanced back at John. Two or three days. Then she would finally have him back. Everything was going to be fine.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments :) Here, have another flashback!

**5 Years Ago**

 

Clara had been walking up and down the Thames for the past fifteen minutes, probably making the gulls just as nervous as she felt. John Smith was late and Clara grew increasingly uneasy, even considering the possibility that he wouldn't show up at all – otherwise he could have sent a message, right?  
“Clara!”  
She turned around and watched John almost jog in her direction and her face instantly lit up. He was dressed in a simple suit again, his hair uncombed and his beard just a little fuller than the last time they had met. Clara felt her heartbeat speed up at the sight of him.  
“I'm sorry,” he panted as he came to a halt in front of her, “Sorry, I, uhm. . . I overslept.”  
She frowned at him in response, but then remembered that he had told her about his night shifts at the hospital and it all started to make sense to her. For her it was the middle of the afternoon, but John had only just woken up.  
“It's alright,” Clara told him with a smile, “You're here now.”  
“Pardon?” John raised his voice over the singer that had started to turn up the volume of his amplifier next to them.  
“I said it's alright,” she almost shouted over the noise. Maybe meeting here, in one of London's loudest and busiest areas, hadn't been such a great idea. They would hardly be able to talk.  
John stepped a little closer and bent down to her ear before he spoke again. “Do you insist on having fish 'n chips?” he asked loudly, “It's quite noisy here.”  
Clara shivered when she could feel his breath on her skin, but she had to agree with him. However, it was also quite tempting to have him so close to her.  
“I'm open to suggestions,” she replied.  
“Well,” John hesitated for a moment, “How does a cup of coffee and some cake sound? I must say, I quite like a sweet breakfast.”  
When Clara looked at him, he stared down at his feet, an almost shy smile on his face. It was strange how a grown man with grey hair and a beard could look so cute and boyish.  
“Sounds great,” she admitted.  
“Good,” he looked up at her, smiling, “Follow me?”

Clara reached for his arm and when she did, she could feel him flinch under her touch and for a moment she thought John was going to protest. However, he said nothing and just led the way over Westminster Bridge in the direction of the Tube station, pushing past the noisy crowds, and all of a sudden Clara really liked the prospect of going somewhere quieter with him.  
They boarded a train to Edgware Road and when John ushered her back out at High Street Kensington, she didn't need a lot of imagination to guess where he would take her and Hyde Park really seemed like a nice choice for a first date, especially on a warm, sunny spring day.  
“She looks a bit like you,” John said and nodded towards the big statue in the middle of a pond. Tourists were taking photos all around them.  
Clara wrinkled her nose. “I'm afraid I'll have to disagree with that,” she replied and took a deep breath, inhaling the spring air and for a moment just enjoying the peace. Kensington Palace was truly a lovely spot, much better than in the middle of the busy city. Here they were surrounded by tourists who were anything but in a hurry, the sun was warm on her skin and they were far away from traffic. Clara loved it.  
Inside the palace café Clara had only just chosen a coffee and a piece of absolutely delicious looking cake when suddenly she watched John drew his wallet from out of his jacket in an attempt to pay.  
“Oh no,” Clara said instantly, “That's on me. For helping me with the router.”  
He chuckled. “I'm afraid I'll have to disagree with that,” John said and handed some money to the cashier before she even had a chance to protest further.  
She pouted at him in reply.  
“Clara, it's been years since I've bought a lovely lady a cup of coffee. Give me that tiny moment of satisfaction,” John said softly, picked his tray back up and started to make his way outside. Clara was left with no choice but to follow him to one of the tables and as she was walking behind him, a smile spread across her face. _Lovely lady._ That was definitely a good start.

John chose a spot in the sun and when he sank down on the chair, Clara thought once more that he looked tired, almost exhausted. She sat down across the table and granted him a smile.  
“This is a lot nicer than fish 'n chips by the Thames,” she admitted.  
John didn't look up, but Clara still noticed the smile on his lips and again she thought that he seemed utterly shy.  
“So, you're a doctor?” Clara asked him after a moment and then stuffed a spoonful of cake into her mouth.  
“Yeah,” John replied, “It's a tough job, but a good one.”  
“But surely you don't always work night shifts?”  
Finally he looked back up and gave a light shrug of his shoulders in response. “I work as many night shifts as they let me. And I don't mind. Better I do them than the young folk who have girlfriends and families to look after.”  
Clara was about to open her mouth and ask him, ask him why he had no girlfriend and no family, but he went on before she even had a chance.  
“But enough about me,” John smiled at her, “What about you? What do you do when you're not despairing over a broken router or reading Jane Austen?”  
“I just finished my thesis and, well, I guess I'm sort of a nanny at the moment. I'm staying with friends of the family, watching their kids in exchange for a bed and food,” she explained, “I hope to be a teacher soon.”  
John grinned at her. “And educate the pudding brained masses about Jane Austen.”  
“Well, not _just_ about her,” Clara smiled back.  
She watched as John took a large sip from his coffee while his piece of cake was still untouched on his plate. Clara didn't know him, so maybe the assumptions she made about him were wrong, but John struck her as the sort of man who thought of others before he thought of himself. He was working hard, probably too hard, he had come to her aid more then just once even though she was a complete stranger to him and maybe that beard hadn't grown because John thought it to be fashionable, but more because he had neglected to shave it in a while. All of a sudden Clara was overcome by the urge to do something nice for him.  
“Would you let me cook for you?” she asked before she could think better of it.  
John looked up at her, frowning.  
“Well, you paid for the coffee and cake,” Clara added swiftly, “Which was meant as my way to say thank you for the router. Now I have to think of something else.”  
“Oh, you really don't have to, Clara,” John said with a smile, “A lovely day outside in nice company is thank you enough.”  
“It really isn't,” she insisted, “Please, I just wanna do something nice for you in return.”  
John sighed in reply, but the smile remained on his face the entire time, slowly but surely turning into a grin. “Well, I suppose I could take a day off next week.”  
Clara beamed at him.  
“Under one condition,” John said and raised his index finger as a warning, “We'll cook together.”  
“I can live with that,” she confirmed and leaned back in her seat, feeling proud and insanely happy. Clara had another date with John and something told her that it wouldn't be the last.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the amazing comments!!!! You guys are the best readers. . . now, how about some angst?

“Are you nervous?” Amy asked her as she handed her friend a cup of tea and Clara sighed in reply while she leaned back in her seat.  
_Nervous_ didn't even begin to cover how she felt. Anxious. Worried. More scared than she had ever been in her entire life. Those were the right words to describe how she felt right now.  
“Of course I'm nervous,” Clara replied eventually, “Dr Jones said that he's improving, but they wanted to wake him up yesterday and they've already pushed it back once. What if they'll do it again tomorrow?”  
“Then they will have good reasons to,” her friend said reassuringly as she sat down on the sofa next to Clara, “Rory has worked with Dr Jones before. He says she's one of the best doctors he knows. You should stop worrying. They said John is out of any immediate danger. The rest is just a matter of time.”  
Clara knew that Amy was right, that Dr Jones and the other doctors were doing their best, that John would wake up eventually, and yet there was something else. A tiny, dark, nagging voice in her head that kept whispering things into her ear at night, making her doubt that John would ever return to her. Clara tried her best to lock it out, but the voice was very persistent.  
“I just want him back,” she admitted after a moment, “The house feels so empty without him.”  
Amy smiled kindly in her direction and reached out to take her hand. “I know. And you will have him back very soon. The doctors will wake him up tomorrow and as soon as he's well enough to leave you can take him home. Trust me, it's all gonna be fine.”  
Clara nodded slowly. “Yeah, you're right. I'm probably just a mess right with everything happening at once. You know, Bonnie tried to call me this morning.”  
“Your sister?” her friend's eyes widened and Clara realized that she had never told Amy about her recent conversation with her grandmother.  
“Yes, the bitch is back,” Clara hissed.  
“You never told me about that!”  
“Well,” she hesitated, “Grandma only just told me and I didn't think Bonnie would have the guts to call me after everything-”  
Clara broke off and let her head sink. There were so many things she would rather do than discuss her sister and what she really wanted was for Bonnie to simply go away. But that wouldn't happen, would it? Her sister had tried to contact her now and even after so many years Clara still knew her well enough to know that she wouldn't give up. They were both stubborn.  
“I don't think I've ever told you the whole story,” she said after a while.  
“No,” Amy agreed, “You just said you had a sister named Bonnie and that she fell out with the rest of the family when she left home.”  
“Well, Bonnie is a bitch,” Clara said plainly, “She was a terrible teenager, the worst kind you can imagine. The whole thing spiked after Mum's death because she was the only one who could sort of reign Bonnie in. And then she died and Bonnie refused to go to the funeral, she wouldn't speak to me or Dad for weeks after. Then everything that came out of her mouth were insults and just general mean things. She skipped school, joined a gang, vanished for days on end. We thought it was drugs at first, but they were anarchists, radicals and they brainwashed her, turned her into a monster. They were caught breaking into and vandalizing a building and she was supposed to be under house arrest until the trial. She vanished over night. Never came back.”  
“Wow,” Amy uttered sarcastically, “She sounds lovely.”  
“Apparently Bonnie went to prison after all, at least that's what my grandmother told me. She also said that the time behind bars has changed her and that she wants to be in contact.”  
“What are you gonna do?”  
Clara shrugged. “Nothing,” she said simply. “Bonnie didn't want anything to do with me in the past twelve years. Why would I want her back now?”  
She took a large sip from her tea and swallowed. Her sister didn't matter. All that mattered was John and that he would be back by her side soon.

* * *

Clara watched the doctors and nurses at work, chewing on her thumbnail a safe distance away from the action. Usually she was good at reading people's faces, but right now Clara had no idea what was going on, whether that look on Dr Jones' face was a good one or not. She just couldn't tell.  
“Okay,” Martha Jones said a while later and turned towards Clara with a smile, “It's all looking very good. We will lay off the medication now and your husband will slowly come to. You can stay with him if you like, but he will probably still be a bit dazed in the beginning. Or you can go home and we'll call you. It's gonna be a long process.”  
It was as if a load had dropped off her shoulders when Clara finally breathed a sigh of relief and clasped both her hands in front of her mouth. She had prayed to hear these words from Dr Jones, but now that she had said them Clara found it hard to believe. John would wake up, it was all going to be fine. She had vowed to herself not to cry, but right now she couldn't help it. The tears just came.  
Dr Jones raised her hands and gently laid them on Clara's arms, squeezing softly. “It's okay,” she smiled at her, “It's fine. Your husband will be back.”  
Clara sniffed and nodded when Martha Jones let go of her and she immediately made her way towards the bed John was sleeping in.  
He still looked peaceful and the wound on his forehead had already started to heal and very soon the colour would return to his face again. Clara guessed that she would also have to bring a razor the next time she visited him because the early stages of a beard had started to grow on his chin, reminding her of the John she had met five years ago. He worn a beard then and she had loved it, but after they had finally become a couple John had insisted on shaving it off. Clara sank down on the chair next to his bed and reached for his hand, determined to hold it until he had woken up.

She had no idea how long it took, but after a while Clara was beginning to feel thirsty. A nurse came in several times and checked the instruments, only to vanish without saying a word. The next time she came she also brought Clara a glass of water.  
“Is everything alright with him?” Clara couldn't help but ask.  
The nurse nodded with a smile. “Yes, it takes while. All perfectly normal.”  
Clara was once more left alone with John and she continued to hold his hand and look at him, continued to look for signs that he was coming to, but there weren't any. And she waited while the sun wandered around the window and eventually disappeared on the other side of the building. Then, after what seemed like days, Dr Jones entered the room and inspected the instruments.  
“Very good,” she concluded, “We'll take him off the ventilator now. He should wake up shortly.”  
Clara merely nodded and knew she should probably step back while the doctors were doing their job, but she just didn't want to let go of his hand. She needed to be here, she needed to be the first face he saw upon waking up.  
Dr Jones and two of the nurses also remained in the room and Clara wasn't sure whether she should be worried or reassured by their presence. But she knew it could only mean one thing: John was going to wake up any moment and her grip around his hand tightened in anticipation. Any moment.  
Then his hand twitched and Clara's heart suddenly skipped a beat. She instantly stood up and bent over him, thinking that the doctor might stop her in her attempt to speak to him, but Martha Jones didn't move.  
“John,” Clara whispered softly, “I'm here. Please, come back to me.”  
She watched his eyes move under his eyelids and then finally he blinked. Clara sighed in relief when he finally opened his eyes and smiled at him. John was awake. Everything was going to be fine.  
“Welcome back,” she said, beaming at him.  
His eyes were unfocused at first, but Clara could tell that he was doing his best to look at her and then finally a smile spread over his face.  
“Pretty,” he croaked weakly, still smiling.  
“You shouldn't encourage him to talk just yet. The ventilator-” Clara was only vaguely aware of Dr Jones' advice from the other side of the room while her eyes were fixed on John. Dr Jones didn't matter. What mattered now was that John was alive and well.  
“Pretty nurse,” John mumbled, his voice hoarse and raspy.  
Clara chuckled in confusion. He really seemed a bit dazed still. “I'm not a nurse, John. It's me. Clara.”  
The tiniest frown appeared on his face, wrinkling his forehead, and Clara heard Martha Jones say something behind her, but she didn't care. Her entire world seemed to fall apart around her as she heard John speak again.  
“Clara who?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments, sweeties :)

**5 Years Ago, Christmas Day**

 

Clara looked around her flat and took one more deep breath. It was perfect. Everything was perfect. The place looked clean, the tree was small, but she couldn't really fit anything larger in her living room, the table was set and the turkey was in the oven. She was all set for a very important day.  
Today Clara would do it, she would finally do it. She would tell John about her feelings for him. They had known each other for nine months now and they had become close, _very_ close. Yet it still wasn't close enough for her taste. Clara liked him, she had liked him from the very beginning. John was everything she could possibly want from a man: kind, funny, gentle, caring and extremely good looking, not to mention the fact that he still continued to quote Jane Austen to her. She wanted more than just his friendship and on some days Clara thought that he felt the same – but she would never know unless she told him. John was too shy to make the first step.  
When the doorbell rang, Clara inhaled sharply and straightened her skirt. She passed the mirror on her way to the door and checked her looks one last time before giving her reflection an approving nod. She had chosen to wear one of her best dresses tonight, one that John had already complimented once when they had gone out to a pub event together a while back. He would like it. He would like her. Clara blew the air out between her lips and opened the door.

“Merry Christmas,” he said gently and held up a bottle of wine, smiling kindly in her direction.  
“Merry Christmas,” Clara replied and instantly wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hug. John stiffened under her touch.  
“Uhm, Clara,” he cleared his throat, “You know how I feel about hugging.”  
She giggled in response. “And you know how I feel about you feeling like that. Besides, it's Christmas. Give me a hug!”  
Reluctantly she felt John close his arms around her back, but his body was still rigid under her touch, so Clara decided to let go of him for now. She would make a hugger out of him at some point.  
“Well, what are you waiting for? Come on in,” Clara said and gestured for John to follow her inside her flat.  
John instantly made his way into the kitchen and sat down the wine bottle. He knew the place well, after all, he had helped her paint the walls and move her furniture after she had moved out of the Maitland's house and into her own place shortly after starting her new job at Coal Hill school. And of course John had also taken care of the set-up of her electronic devices, especially the new router. Clara didn't know what she would have done without him in the past few months. John truly had become one of the most important people in her life.  
She smiled at him as she went to fetch two glasses from the cupboard, but when she was about to pour the second glass, John held her back.  
“None for me,” he said immediately.  
Clara frowned at him and a suspicion started to rise up inside of her while she dearly hoped that she was wrong.  
“I'm on call tonight,” John explained and her heart sank instantly.  
“John!” Clara said angrily, “You said you'd take Christmas off so we could have a nice meal together. I made turkey!”  
She watched as he bit down on his lip and suddenly he looked downright uncomfortable. As much as she would have loved a quiet Christmas Day together with John, Clara knew that he loved his job and that he would do about anything to help people – which was what she loved so much about him. Yet just for one day Clara wanted him for herself.  
“They asked.”  
Clara put her arms akimbo, glowering at him. “At some point you should consider just saying no. You're not the only doctor on this planet. They have others. They can have the annoying shifts for a change.”  
John sighed and looked at her pleadingly. “I'm sorry, Clara. The other doctors have families. They should be with them at Christmas. I, on the other hand-”  
“You have me,” Clara blurted out without meaning to.  
He chuckled, but at the same time there was something sad in his eyes. “I can imagine the look on my boss' face when I tell him I can't take the shift because I'm going to spend Christmas with a beautiful, young woman half my age.”  
Clara shrugged. “He'd have given you the day off and he probably would have been jealous.”  
John smiled at her in reply.  
“Alright,” Clara said determinedly, “Let's eat, shall we?”

John complimented her on the food as they ate and thanked her once more for the invitation while Clara grew increasingly nervous about what was going to happen later tonight. She wouldn't chicken out again, not like she had done during the evening at the cinema or at the pub with Amy and Rory or the beach. Tonight she would tell him and she would have to do it before his beeper went off to call him in for an emergency.  
They retreated to her sofa afterwards and Clara poured herself a second glass of wine for courage while John selected a movie from her collection. When it came to films John seemed to have been living under a rock for the past fifteen years, but that wasn't a surprise, seeing how full his work schedule usually was. Clara had managed to encourage him to take a few more days off, but every now and then he still bailed even on her when the right person at the hospital asked him to cover a shift.  
Eventually John found a movie and settled on the sofa next to her while Clara finished her wine glass. _Love Actually._ That was the perfect introductory movie for a confession like she had planned for tonight and she scooted a little closer to him.  
“Didn't you say it was a Christmas movie?” John asked after a while.  
“Yeah, why?”  
He chuckled. “Looks more like a silly love story to me.”  
“Well, yeah,” Clara confirmed, “It is a silly love story. One of the best there is. And it's also a Christmas movie.”  
She leaned her head against his shoulder with a sigh and felt John shift in his seat. He wasn't comfortable with touching anyone, but the better they got to know each other the more he would allow. Holding his arm. Taking his hand. He was improving. He even let her rest her head against his shoulder.  
They watched the movie mostly in silence, Clara only occasionally sipping the wine he had brought and John stealing a crisp from the bowl every now and then. It was a wonderful Christmas Day, even though her family wasn't around this year. Her father and Linda had gone on a holiday and her grandmother had suggested to celebrate Christmas together at a later time when they could all be together. And if Clara was completely honest, she quite liked the fact that it was just her and John this year.  
“So,” Clara began and looked up at him expectantly, “Did you like it?”  
John wrinkled his nose in reply. “It was a bit cheesy, wasn't it?”  
She giggled and sat up to be at eye level with him. “It is, but it's the good kind of cheesy,” she said, smiling at him. Then she gave him a soft nudge in the ribs. “Come on, admit it. You liked it.”  
A shy smile started to spread across his face and he lowered his gaze a little. “Yeah, it wasn't bad.”  
When John finally looked back at her he was still smiling and Clara felt her stomach tingle at the sight. It was now or never and she knew it. She had to say something now or the moment would be gone again. Yet when Clara opened her mouth, no word seemed to come out.  
“John,” she almost whispered nervously.  
“Yes?” He raised his eyebrows just a little, expecting her to say something, to tell him what was on her mind, but her throat was suddenly utterly dry. What if he didn't like her in that way? What if she had misread the signals? No. Now or never.  
When the words failed her, Clara simply leaned forward, closed the distance between them and pressed her lips against his in a kiss. The butterflies in her stomach were doing somersaults and she counted the seconds that their kiss lasted. One. Two. Three.  
Then John abruptly pulled away and stared at her, his eyes wide in shock or fear or even horror. Oh God, she had messed up.  
“Clara,” he breathed, “I, uhm. . .”  
When Clara opened her mouth to justify her actions, the pager in his pocket suddenly started to make in incredibly loud noise and in a matter of seconds John had jumped up from the sofa and put a distance between the two of them.  
“I, uhm, I. . . I'm sorry,” he stammered, “I have to go.”  
“John-” Clara tried to call after him, but he simply turned around and darted out of her flat without further warning.

Clara sank back into the sofa cushions with a sigh. Yep, she had definitely messed up.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the sweet comments!!!!! I'm glad you've enjoyed the cuteness, cause now we're back to the angst. . .

The way he looked at her instantly told Clara that something wasn't right, but she refused to give in to her fears and believe the worst. It couldn't be. She simply would not allow it.  
“John,” Clara said urgently and squeezed his hand, “It's me. Clara. Your _wife_.”  
Even now that the sedation was lifting there was no sign of recognition in his eyes, not even a glimmer of it. John looked at her with the odd fascination of their early days of friendship, but no more.  
Then finally he scoffed. “I think I'd know if I was married to you,” John said, a smile on his lips.  
“But you are!” she almost shouted back and then suddenly Clara felt a hand on her shoulder. She struggled against it, but eventually Dr Jones managed to drag her away from the bed.  
“Let me go!” Clara protested instantly and tried to shake the doctor off.  
“Please, Mrs Smith, your husband needs rest,” Martha Jones told her calmly.  
“No! I'm not leaving him. John!” She turned around to where John was slowly scrambling into a sitting position. “Tell her I'm not leaving!”  
Yet John said nothing at all and when the nurses came to Dr Jones' aid Clara had no other choice but to let them walk her outside and she vowed to save the yelling for the moment John couldn't hear her.

“What do you think you're doing?! Let me see my husband!” Clara shouted at the young doctor as soon as the door had closed behind them, “I need to know what's wrong with him!”  
“Mrs Smith, please, calm down,” Martha Jones said in an infuriatingly calm tone, “Your husband needs rest above all.”  
“Why didn't he recognize me?” She demanded to know, the panic showing in her voice, “Why doesn't he know me?!”  
The doctor took a moment to reply and inhaled deeply before she spoke. Even though Clara had been yelling at the woman her voice still remained calm. “Your husband may suffer from a retrograde amnesia. It can happen after a head trauma, but we will need to run further tests. In most cases the memory returns after a few days.”  
For the first time since she had stepped outside Clara seemed to take a breath. Amnesia. John couldn't remember her. He couldn't remember the past five years of his life. “And in the worst cases?” she demanded to know.  
She heard Dr Jones inhale sharply. “In rare cases the patients don't remember at all, but that really is the rarest exception, Mrs Smith. In the meantime there are things you can do to help him remember. Old photographs, music, familiar places. But for now he still needs rest and we need to run more tests. Please, go home, get some sleep if you can, come back tomorrow.”  
“I can't just leave him here,” Clara protested weakly and slowly but surely she felt the exhaustion creep up on her along with her tears.  
Dr Jones placed her hand on Clara's shoulder in a comforting gesture. “Your husband is in good hands, I promise. Come back tomorrow when you're both more rested.”  
Finally Clara nodded and slowly turned around and headed out of the hospital, but not without glancing back at the door to John's room a few more times before she finally turned around the corner.

When Clara stepped outside she felt as if she had been drained of all her energy. She just wanted to lie down next to John and sleep in his arms until this nightmare was over, but before she went home she still had one more thing to do. Clara drew her phone from out of her pocket and dialled the one number she almost knew by heart by now because she must have called it about thirty times in the past few days.  
“Hello, this is Missy. I switched off this annoying device because I'm currently on the Bahamas, lying on the white sand beach and drinking a cocktail. I may or may not come back, but if I do I might call you if you leave a message after the beep.”  
“Missy, this is Clara. Again. Please, call me as soon as you get this. John needs you,” she paused, “ _I_ need you.”

* * *

John was used to being tired, but what he felt right now was a whole new level of exhaustion and he also knew it probably came from the sedation they had given him. Whatever they had done that for. He should probably start to try to make sense of everything that was happening around him – the hospital, the pretty woman named Clara who said she was his wife, the nurses and doctors, but he felt too tired to even form a coherent thought.  
Then the door to his room opened once more the young doctor stepped inside, wearing a friendly smile on her face.  
“Hello, Dr Smith,” she said, “I'm Dr Martha Jones and I'm here to make sure you're back on your feet soon.”  
John let his gaze wander down his body and suddenly noticed a dull ache in his left leg that he hadn't really been aware of before. His sense were only slowly returning to him. He tried to move it, but soon realized that there was a cast restricting any possible movement.  
“I know you don't remember me, but we've met before, here at the hospital,” she told him with a smile, “You instructed the new doctors on their first day shortly before you left. I was one of them and I must say I was quite sad when you quit. You were the best instructor we had.”  
John frowned at her. “When I quit? Quit what?”  
Dr Jones looked at him for a moment and John instantly recognized that flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. He was a doctor as well, he knew that look and he knew she was trying very hard to find a gentle way to break some bad news to him.  
“Do you know why you're here, Mr Smith?” Martha Jones asked kindly.  
Suddenly John thought that that should have been the obvious question from the beginning, that he should know the reason he was lying in a hospital bed with a cast around his leg, but he didn't.  
“What is the last thing you remember before waking up?” she went on when he failed to reply.  
“Uhm,” John paused, thinking about his answer for a moment. He had woken up in a hospital bed, staring in the large, brown eyes of that pretty woman, but what had happened before that? “I'm not sure. I remember the hospital, going to work here. And I had an argument with my best friend on the phone. She told me I'm working to much.”  
He watched as Dr Jones took a deep breath. “You were in an accident a few days ago. A car hit you while you were crossing the road and you broke your leg and suffered a head trauma. You spent the past few days in a medically induced coma before we woke you up today.”  
“That explains the cast,” he mumbled more to himself than anyone else.  
“I think you may be suffering from retrograde amnesia because of the trauma,” the doctor said carefully, eyeing him closely as if waiting for his reaction. Yet John wasn't sure how he was supposed to react. What did she expect of him? “Can you tell me what year it is?”  
John blew the air out between his teeth. “Uhm, I think that should be. . . 2012? Why? Is that the year?”  
“It's 2017,” Martha Jones explained.  
“Oh,” John uttered, not really knowing what else to say. 5 years. If Dr Jones was right, he had lost five years. Shouldn't he feel sad about that? Angry? Panicked? But how could he when he didn't even know what he had missed during that time?  
Then suddenly it started to dawn on him.  
“That woman, uhm, Clara? Is she really my wife?”  
Martha Jones nodded.  
“Is she still here?”  
“No, but she will come back tomorrow. She's been here every day,” she told him, “You can talk to her when we're done with the test, but for now you should try to get some sleep. Maybe you'll remember a little more in the morning. After all, you've only just woken up.”  
Dr Jones smiled at him as she rose from her chair and left his room, leaving John on his own again. 

Apparently he had lost part of his memory, he had quit his job at the hospital and he had married a woman named Clara in the past five years. John had no idea what he was supposed to think about that. After a moment of consideration he reached for the phone on his bedside table and dialled Missy's number, only to have a very annoying voicemail answer him. His friend was away on holiday, so there was no way of finding any answers until the morning. John thought he should probably use the time until then to get some sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once more for your amazing comment :) Now let's have one last flashback before we focus on the angst at hand.

**5 Years Ago**

 

John hadn't answered her calls since Christmas Day and Clara was constantly torn between being worried and being annoyed. He had stormed out of her flat – fine. But he could at least have the decency to call her back and talk about what had happened between the two of them. Clara hadn't even had the chance to confess her feelings, she had just kissed him – that shouldn't be a reason to ignore her, but apparently for John it was. And to make her week even worse her router was broken – and this time Clara suspected that it was beyond repair. So she packed it back up and headed towards the electronics shop where she had bought it together with John.  
“I want a replacement,” Clara said sharply and dropped the box on the desk, glaring at the woman behind the register. She was in a foul mood and certainly not up for a big discussion or exchanged pleasantries.  
“Of course, dear,” the woman replied with a smile, “I'm sure you have someone to help you with the set-up?”  
“I'll figure it out by myself, thanks,” Clara snapped. John wouldn't help her again. Not when he wasn't even answering his damn phone.  
“You sure about that?” the woman asked and then, to Clara's surprise, winked at her.  
She frowned at the woman, not really sure what was happening. Then the woman's shoulders dropped and she rolled her eyes in annoyance.  
“Of course, you don't know me. How silly of me,” she said and slowly but surely it began to dawn on Clara.  
She had gotten John's number from a woman in the electronics shop almost a year ago. This was the same woman. Missy. John's best friend.  
“Missy,” she said, “You're Missy.”  
The woman smiled at her in reply. “Quite right. And you're sure John won't help you with the set-up?”  
“John isn't speaking to me at the moment.”  
“Yes, because he's being an idiot,” Missy groaned, “I have no idea what happened between you on Christmas, but he's been grumpy ever since.”

Clara was a little taken aback by Missy's statement and stood up straight, her eyes fixed on the woman in front of her as if trying to read a solution from her face. If the kiss had upset John, then why wouldn't he talk to her about it? Why wasn't he answering her calls?  
Suddenly Missy sighed. “The thing you need to know about John is that he's always an idiot, but even more so when he likes someone.”  
“Likes someone?” she frowned at the woman behind the counter.  
“Yes, of course,” Missy rolled her eyes and from the sound of her voice Clara could tell that she was very much bored or annoyed by their conversation. “John is crazy about you. He's been talking about nothing but you for months. There are pictures of you on his fridge.”  
Clara opened her mouth to reply, but suddenly couldn't think of anything that she could say to Missy. She had feelings for John and if what Missy had just told her was true, he had feelings for her as well. Suddenly it made even less sense that he wouldn't answer her calls.  
“Why did you give me his number?” she demanded to know instead, her frown deepening, “When I first came here I asked for the number of a helpline, but you gave me John's. On purpose. Why?”  
Missy remained silent for a long moment and just looked at her. Clara already thought that she wasn't going to get an answer at all when she finally spoke again. “You seemed like his type,” she explained with a shrug, “And apparently I wasn't wrong. John is utterly in love with you.”  
Clara scoffed. “You can't just give his number to a random stranger, hoping to meddle with his love life.”  
“Yes, I can,” Missy spat, her voice suddenly angrier than Clara had expected, “I'm his best friend and I'm worried about him. He needs someone even though he would never admit that.”  
She broke off and a silence spread between the two of them, but it didn't last for long before Missy continued, now calmer and less angry.  
“He was married once and after she died John just threw himself into his work. He barely does anything else, but you probably noticed that already. It can't go on like that or he'll work himself into an early grave.”  
Clara's features softened a little when she heard Missy say these words and she was beginning to understand that giving out his number hadn't been meant as a prank at all like John had suspected.  
“So you chose me on a whim?” she asked, a light smile appearing on her lips.  
Missy shrugged. “It worked, didn't it?”  
Clara considered her options for a moment before she stepped forward and picked the box containing the router back up. She smiled at Missy.  
“On second thought, I think I won't return the router immediately. I think I should have someone have a look at it first.”  
“That is a very good idea,” Missy agreed.

* * *

Clara knocked on his door after ringing the bell had amounted to nothing and finally she could hear John's footsteps on the corridor.  
“Calm down,” he muttered through the door, “I'm coming.”  
She shifted her weight nervously from one foot to the other while John turned the key in the door to unlock it and finally he opened it and Clara stared straight into his tired, unshaven face. One look at him was enough for her to know that Missy was right. It couldn't go on like this.  
“Oh,” John uttered in surprise and she watched him swallow, “I, uhm, I hadn't expected you.”  
“You should have,” Clara replied and stomped past him into his flat before he could make up an excuse as to why she couldn't come inside. When she glanced around she instantly noticed how messy it looked, as if he had hardly spent any time here since she had last visited him.  
“Sorry, I didn't have a chance to clean up. I was-”  
“Working,” she finished his sentence and looked straight at him.  
“Yeah,” he admitted, letting his shoulders sink.  
Clara realized now what Missy had been trying to tell her earlier, why she was so worried about John to the point that she would try to meddle with his love life because right now Clara felt the same kind of worry. He was working too hard, neglecting himself as he did. It couldn't go on forever or he would die from sheer exhaustion sooner rather than later. But what was Missy's plan? Get him a girlfriend so he would focus on that instead of his job? Make him realize there was more to life than work?  
“You haven't answered my calls and we need to talk,” Clara began, “That's why I'm here.”  
John lowered his gaze to his own two feet and hesitated.  
“Uhm,” he paused, “I'm sorry I just stormed out on Christmas Day. That wasn't nice. But I'm not really used to. . . touching people.”  
“I've noticed,” Clara said kindly.  
“It takes me a while to. . . to,” John looked up and it was clear that he was lost for words whenever their gaze met. What if Missy was wrong about him? What if he didn't have feelings for her and that was why he was acting so strangely. “To get comfortable with touching and. . . stuff.”  
A smile spread across Clara's face. “Stuff like kissing?” she asked, giggling softly.  
John said nothing for a long while. Instead he stared at her, looking lost. “I like you,” he admitted eventually, “I really like you.”  
Clara frowned at him. “You say that like you say you like fish 'n chips.”  
“Well, I do like them,” he shrugged, “But not on the same. . . level. I wouldn't necessarily kiss fish 'n chips.”  
The way he stood in front of her, looking so awkward and frightening, suddenly made Clara laugh. “Okay, this conversation is getting a little ridiculous.”  
“Sorry,” John mumbled instantly and lowered his gaze once again, “Well, I like you a lot more than fish 'n chips and the kiss was. . . nice.”  
“Would you like to kiss me again?” she asked him in a moment of bravery while John's head shot back up.  
“What? Now?” He seemed utterly terrified.  
She granted him a smile. “It can be whenever you like.”  
John swallowed hard when Clara took a step in his direction and she could see the confusion on his face. Then finally it lit up and his lips curled into a smile.  
“Now seems like a good time actually,” he said with a light shrug.  
Clara's smile widened. “I was thinking the same thing.”

Then she closed the distance between the two of them by taking one last step and went up on tiptoes so she could reach him. John cupped her face in his hands in a gentle manner and finally their lips locked in another kiss.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *group hug* Thank you so much for the comments, babes!!!

The nurses helped him back into the wheelchair after he had come out of the MRI machine and he plopped down with a thud like a bag filled with wet clothes. The heavy cast made it impossible for John to move properly.  
“How long will I have to be driven around in this thing?” he asked, growling a little. He hated relying on others for the simplest things.  
“Just until you've regained your strength. Then we'll get you a pair of crutches,” Martha Jones explained in her usual friendly manner.  
“Great,” John replied grumpily, his voice heavy with sarcasm, “Can't wait.”  
The doctor appeared to ignore his last comment as she started pushing him through the hospital corridors back to his room and on the way John asked her if he could have a look at his MRI results once they came back. Dr Jones agreed and they continued the rest of the way in silence.  
However, once she had pushed the wheelchair into his hospital room John found a surprise waiting for him there. The pretty, young woman from yesterday was standing by the window, granting him a light smile, and yet there was so much sadness in her gaze that it tugged at his heartstrings. John knew why that was. Clara was his wife and he didn't even remember her.  
“I'll help you back into your bed,” Dr Jones said, but John held her back.  
“No need,” he said, “I'm tired of lying around.”  
“Alright,” Martha Jones replied eventually, “I'll come back later with the results.”

John waited until the doctor had left the room, all the while keeping an eye on the woman in front of him. One of the first thoughts he had was that he was probably an extremely lucky man, apart from the accident. Clara was beautiful, there was absolutely no denying that. She had a sweet, round face and incredibly large eyes. Right now John even questioned the fact that she was his wife at all because how could it be that such a pretty woman would fancy him? John, on the other hand, understood all too well why he must have fallen for her. There was an aura of warmth around her that simply drew him in even now that he knew nothing about her except her name.  
“How are you feeling?” John asked her after Dr Jones had left.  
Clara's smiled widened. “I'm pretty sure I should be asking you that.”  
“Yeah, but I asked first.”  
“I'm not the one with the cast around my leg.”  
John looked down at the heavy, white bandage and laughed for a moment before his features grew serious once more. “For the circumstances I'm doing quite well, I think. Except for the memory thing.” He paused and looked at her and right now he simply had to ask. “Are you really my wife?”  
“Yes,” Clara confirmed with a small nod, her voice had dropped to a whisper, “The day of your accident was our first wedding anniversary.”  
John could clearly see that she was upset about that, but he just needed to know more, otherwise he wouldn't be able to believe it.  
“How did we meet? I mean,” he nodded in her direction, not wanting to state the obvious. She was younger. Most people would argue that she was too young for him.  
“Missy,” Clara said simply.  
And all of a sudden it all made a little more sense. John remembered the fight with his best friend, although now he knew that it must have been five years ago, and Missy had pretty much told him to find a girlfriend or she would find one for him. Apparently she had succeeded in that.  
Clara chuckled softly, but her expression remained sad. “Missy gave me your number, telling me it was a helpline. I called you, ranting about my broken router and you. . . well, you helped me.”  
“I see,” John replied even though he couldn't understand how it had happened at all, how they had fallen in love. He hoped that he would remember at some point because Clara seemed lovely, but right now it seemed a little too much to take in. “I'm gonna need a while to. . . well. . . get used to that idea.”  
“You are my husband, John,” she told him and her eyes seemed wet when he looked at her, “We love each other.”  
“I don't even remember you,” he argued weakly, “I don't know your last name or your favourite flowers or-”  
“Smith,” Clara suddenly interrupted him and finally a light smile appeared on her lips. John couldn't quite follow. “We're married, so my last name is Smith.”  
He looked at her for a long moment until the words had sunk in and then John couldn't help but laugh. “Of course,” he said, “That was a bit silly of me.”  
Clara smiled kindly at him in reply. “That's okay. It was a bit funny.”  
Then silence fell over the hospital room and John started to shift in his wheelchair to cover up the awkwardness. It was bizarre. Everything about it was absolutely bizarre. Yesterday, or what he had assumed to be yesterday, he had been a doctor at this very hospital and a widower. After the death of his wife John had dedicated himself to his work so that he could help people and maybe spare a husband or wife out there the pain that he had gone through.  
“Dr Jones said I no longer work here at the hospital,” he suddenly began, “What do I do now?”  
“You have your own practice now,” Clara explained, “Don't worry. I've called your receptionist and he is taking care of your appointments.”  
“Why?” he asked blatantly, “I never wanted my own private practice. Why would I do that?”  
She looked at him for a very long time, obviously considering her words before she spoke.  
“The job was killing you, John,” Clara replied heavily, “The night shifts were killing you.”  
Yes, the job had been killing him, but he had loved helping people and John couldn't see why he would have changed his entire life.  
“You did it for me,” Clara added, “You quit so we could spend more time together and as far as I know you've never regretted it.”  
John nodded softly. Of course he had done it for Clara. He hardly knew anything about her at all and yet he could tell that she had been special to him. That he was special to her. It would take a long time to get to know her.

“I should go,” Clara said after a moment, “Dr Jones said not to overwhelm you. But if you like I could come back tomorrow?”  
John smiled at her in reply. “I would like that very much.”  
When he looked at her Clara forced a smile as well, but it was too obvious from her face that their meeting hadn't gone like she had hoped.  
When Clara had left John was about to call for a nurse to help him back into the bed when Dr Jones stepped through the door once more and offered to help him with it. He struggled with the heavy cast and couldn't wait until it would finally come off again.  
“Oh, before I forget,” Martha Jones said and pulled something out of her pocket, “You had a couple of things on you when you were admitted. The box looked a lot like a present, so I wasn't sure whether I should hand it to your wife or whether that was something you'd prefer to do in person.”  
She granted him a smile as she left a small jewellery box and two envelopes on his bedside table and John reached for them as soon as Dr Jones had left the room. The box itself looked quite fancy and when he opened it John found a small golden necklace inside, no doubt a gift for Clara for their first wedding anniversary. Then he moved on to the envelope, the first of which contained two tickets to a ball hosted by his former university and again John suspected them to be an anniversary present. However, the second envelope made him pause and John wasn't quite sure what to make of that.  
He was more than a little surprised to find a cheque for no less than £5000 inside as well as a letter. He unfolded and read it instantly.

_Hello dear,_  
_I know you declined my offer the last time we met, but I would still like to help in any way I can. Just take it and use it wisely._  
_I haven't had a chance to speak to Clara yet and I would like to wait until after our anniversary. I don't think she's going to like it, but it's the right thing to do._

_See you soon,_  
_John._

He read the letter over and over, but it made less sense each time. John moved on to the envelope, but couldn't find any address or name on it, not even the cheque was completely filled out. Either he had planned on writing it down at a later point or he had wanted to deliver the letter in person. But to whom? And what had he wanted to discuss with Clara that she wouldn't have liked? Had he been cheating on his wife?

Suddenly the ringing of his phone tore John from his thoughts and he picked it up instantly.  
“Yes? This is John Smith speaking?”  
In response he heard the first familiar voice since he had woken up. “What on earth have you done now?!”  
John sighed. “Missy,” he breathed, “I'm so glad you've called. I have questions.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments!!!!

John was moved from the ICU to an ordinary hospital room the following day and he was glad of the fact that he wouldn't have to share it with anyone else for now. A nurse stopped by after breakfast to measure his blood pressure and John became increasingly aware of the fact that he was staring at him.  
“Something wrong?” he asked after a while, raising his eyebrows.  
“Oh, uhm, no, sorry,” the nurse spluttered, “It's just, uhm, well. . . we sort of know each other.”  
“Ah,” John uttered in reply, not knowing what else to say. He had never seen that face before.  
“My wife is friends with Clara,” he explained, “I'm Rory.”  
John granted him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I don't remember.”  
“Yes, yes, of course you don't. Sorry,” the nurse mumbled and John concluded that Rory was either weird towards him because of the memory loss or he was a very awkward person in general. Nevertheless, he knew him and everyone who did might hold a clue. There were still so many questions that needed answering, especially the ones circling around the ominous cheque and letter.  
“Can I ask you something?”  
“Yeah, sure,” Rory agreed.  
“How was my marriage to Clara?” John enquired carefully and watched Rory's reaction closely.  
The nurse, however, chuckled. “Annoying,” he said before he instantly turned serious again, “Sorry, not the right word. It's just, uhm, you are. . . very much in love. It's quite adorable most of the time.”  
John raised his eyebrows at him. “And when it's not adorable?”  
“It's annoying.”  
He nodded in reply. “I see.”  
If they were as much in love as Rory seemed to think, John probably hadn't cheated on Clara. But then who had he meant to send the letter to? And what was it that he had wanted to discuss with Clara? But if it was as important as the letter had made it sound, John was sure that sooner or later someone would approach him about the matter.

* * *

Clara inhaled sharply as she came to a halt in front of the hospital room, clutching her purse in her hands. She could do it. John would eventually remember. She would help him remember.  
She spotted him sitting on his bed when she entered the room and John looked up when he noticed her, granting her a soft smile.  
“Hello Clara,” he said.  
“Hi,” Clara replied nervously. She felt almost as nervous as she had felt when they had first met. All those months of pining after him, hoping for a sign. Now it seemed like they were going to do it all over again. “How are you?”  
John nodded towards a pair of crutches next to his bed. “I've been upgraded to crutches. Dr Jones said that once the cast is off, I will get a walking stick. Doesn't that sound nice?” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Clearly John wasn't keen on the prospect of crutches and canes.  
“A cane has style,” Clara said with a shrug while she pulled up a chair to sit next to him.  
“A cane is a walking aid, not an accessory.”  
“I've brought photos,” she blurted out, trying to change the subject, and immediately reached into her handbag to pull them out.  
Clara had gone through their albums all evening, selecting the best shots of the two of them because Martha Jones had said that it might help him remember.  
“Alright,” John replied and sat up straight, “Let's see them.”  
With a smile Clara showed him the first photograph, which depicted the two of them in front of the registrar's office on their wedding day. John took it from her and stared at it for a long moment.  
“I suppose it's our wedding day?” he asked, his eyes still glued to the picture.  
“No, just a fancy dress party.”  
John's head shot up and he frowned at her.  
“I'm kidding,” Clara laughed, “Of course it's our wedding.”  
He cracked a light smile before he lowered his gaze to the picture again. “You look beautiful,” John said thoughtfully, but before Clara could thank him he looked back up at her. “Where do we live?”  
“Uhm, we bought a house right after the wedding. It's beautiful, very quiet. Nice neighbourhood.”  
John nodded and suddenly he seemed to remember something because he dropped the photo in his lap and reached into the drawer of his bedside table.  
“Oh, before I forget. Dr Jones gave me something I had on me when I had the accident,” he explained and pulled out a small box with a red bow around it, “You said the day of my accident was our wedding anniversary, so I suppose this was my gift to you.”  
When John held the box in her direction Clara took it only reluctantly. Their anniversary had been last week and yet it seemed like a lifetime ago. So much had changed since.  
When she opened the little box Clara could hardly believe her eyes.  
“Oh my God,” she uttered in disbelief.  
“What? Is something wrong?” John asked instantly.  
Still Clara couldn't tear her gaze away from the necklace. She had to make sure that she wasn't dreaming and right now she needed all of her willpower not to start crying.  
“Clara?”  
“This was my Mum's,” Clara said eventually, her voice small and broken. “I lost it when we were on our honeymoon in Milan. I thought I'd never see it again.”  
“There's a note in there, too. I couldn't really make sense of it,” John added.  
Clara lifted the padding under the necklace and discovered the note, unfolding it instantly. It was written in broken English, but apparently John had managed to locate her lost necklace in a lost property office in Milan and the owner had sent it back to England. She couldn't believe he had done that for her.  
“There was another gift-” John said, but Clara didn't let him finish. She bent forward and threw her arms around his neck in a tight embrace.  
“Thank you,” she said and bit down on her lip. She couldn't cry now. If she started to cry she wouldn't be able to stop.  
“Uhm, Clara,” John said and then she felt his hands on her arms, gently pushing her away from him. “Sorry, I'm not so good with hugs.”  
“Sorry,” Clara apologized and instantly distanced herself from him. She wiped a tear from her eyes before she vowed to herself not to cry once more. “Sorry. Uhm, another gift?”  
“Yeah, at least I think so,” John said and pulled an envelope from the drawer, “This contains two tickets to a ball hosted by old university. I suppose we wanted to go together?”  
She smiled at him in reply at the sound of that. “Yes, the ball. You weren't so keen on going, but I kept hinting that I would love to.”  
“Apparently it worked,” he commented.  
“Yes,” she breathed in reply, “It did.”  
Clara swallowed hard, still clutching the box with her necklace in her hand. It was the best and most thoughtful present he could have given her and John didn't even remember doing it. He would remember eventually. He needed to remember.  
“Do you want to show me the rest of the photos?” John asked and when Clara looked at him she realized something and it made her heart ache.  
He felt nothing for her. He didn't even know who she was. Clara loved him so much, especially for his kindness, and right now, when he looked at her, his gaze was empty. There was nothing of his old devotion towards her whatsoever. He needed to remember.  
“Sure,” Clara agreed and swallowed her tears. She would help him remember.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments! Sorry to be breaking your heart at the moment, but I'm sure I can make up for that later ;)

John watched Missy closely while she inspected the letter, her eyebrows rising the further she read and he got the distinct feeling that his friend wouldn’t be of much help in this case either. He felt glad that Missy was around, that he had at least one person he could rely on, one familiar face that he recognized. Missy had been there since their childhood days and if John could trust one person it was her.  
“Nope, sorry,” she replied after a while and threw the letter onto his bed, “I have no idea what this is about. You never mentioned it to me.”  
With a sigh John reached for the letter and glanced at it one more time, maybe hoping that he would finally realize what it was about - but that didn’t happen. It was the same, old, confusing letter that he had looked at for two days.  
“How are you feeling?” Missy enquired after watching him for a moment.  
How was he feeling? That was a very good question.  
“I don’t know,” he admitted wearily, “Confused. Mostly.”  
“Well, I kind of already suspected that. You have the last 5 years of your life to catch up on,” she replied, the tone of her voice a little too cheerful for the situation. John got the impression that she treated his condition as a bit of a joke or a nuisance or both.  
“I thought,” he hesitated, “I thought you might be able to help me with that. Fill in some gaps. Answer some questions.”  
“I thought Clara has already been here.”

Clara. Everything connected with her was so strange, so weird. She was a truly lovely woman and nothing if not nice, but John just didn’t know her.  
“She was,” he said after a long moment, “She showed me photos. Told me about us.”  
“So you know what happened in the past five years. Or at least a rough outline of it and while we’re on the subject,” Missy said, “Since you’ve currently forgotten why you hired him - you need to fire your receptionist.”  
“Why?” John frowned at her.  
“Because he’s an imbecile,” she replied with a shrug, “I tried to call you at the office before I went on holiday and he gave me a big, long speech about how I deserve some rest. I fell asleep eventually, so I have no idea what conclusions he drew in the end.”  
John rolled his eyes at her. “I’m not gonna fire an employee that I don’t even know or remember hiring.”  
“Fine,” Missy spat, “Suit yourself.”  
“About Clara,” he began carefully.  
His friend looked back up at him, eyeing him expectantly. “What about her?”  
“That’s what I was gonna ask you. I mean, I know she’s my wife, but-”  
“No but,” she replied vehemently, “She’s your wife and you love her.”  
“I don’t even know her,” John argued defensively, shifting in his seat. His leg stung a bit inside the heavy cast and right now he couldn’t wait to finally get rid of it, even if it meant walking on a cane for a few more weeks.  
“Yes, so you’ll have to get to know her again,” Missy said, waving her hand around in a dismssive gesture. She sounded annoyed again. “I am seriously mad at you, John. I helped you meet her, I helped you two get together. What more do I have to do to make you happy?”  
“Missy,” John growled in reply, “I had an accident. It’s not like I chose to forget about my wife.”  
“Same outcome.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and leaned back in her chair. “Talk to Clara. You will find all your answers there.”  
“Not this one.” John raised the letter in his hand to show her. “It says I wanted to talk to Clara about something after our anniversary, which means the conversation never took place, so Clara doesn’t know. Who would I just give £5000 to? It makes no sense. I thought that maybe I was cheating-”  
“You weren’t cheating,” Missy said and when John glared at her, trying to ask how she could be so sure about that, she laughed and went on to replied before he could even ask. “Clara is your everything. You would never do anything to hurt her. To be fair, you two were almost disgustingly in love.”  
“People keep saying that and yet it doesn’t help me at all!” John spat angrily, “I don’t remember. It doesn’t matter how many photos she shows me or how many people tell me how much I love her, I have never seen her before I woke up!”  
He took a long, deep, desperate breath. Missy was his best friend. John had thought that if someone would understand, it would be her. But apparently he had been wrong.  
"Missy, you know me better than anyone else. You know how I am. You know how long it takes me to warm up to people and Clara-" he broke off, sighing, "She will expect things of me. The way she looks at me with her big, sad eyes. She expects me to be her husband. I can't do that.”  
Missy pouted at him.  
“How am I supposed to live with her, Missy? In a strange house, with a strange woman?”  
“John, honest question,” she said and looked straight at him, “Do you like her?”  
“That's not the p-”  
“That's very much the point, so do you?” she pressed.  
John hesitated because he hated to admit it. He did like her and how could he not? Clara hadn't done anything to make him dislike her. She was nice and lovely and absolutely pretty to look at. “Yes,” he admitted eventually.  
“Good,” Missy concluded and leaned back in her seat, “Because I didn't give her your number for no reason. When she walked into the shop with her computer problem I felt it. I knew she'd be perfect for you, so just go to her and fall in love again.”  
John opened his mouth to protest, to tell Missy that it wasn't nearly as easy as she made it sound when suddenly there was a knock on he door and Dr Jones entered just a moment later.

“Oh, am I interrupting?” she asked when she noticed Missy sitting next to his bed.  
His friend rose from her seat instantly. “Not at all, dear. I was about to leave. Suitcases to unpack and all of that stuff,” she pointed at Dr Jones, “You do what you can to patch him up, yeah? He gets grumpy when he's confined to his bed.”  
Martha Jones cracked a light smile. “So I've noticed and I have good news about that,” she announced, “I think we can discharge you tomorrow.”  
“Really?” John asked in surprise. Technically he had been ready to go home yesterday, but he wasn't sure whether he was actually keen to leave the hospital. What they meant when they said “home” was a strange place to him, one he hadn't even seen except on photos. Clara would be there and it would be strange.  
“Yes, as long as you don't overdo it I see no reason to keep you here any longer. Your leg will heal and maybe the familiar surroundings will trigger those memories to come back a little sooner.”  
John exhaled sharply as he leaned back against his pillow. He would have to get used to the idea now, wouldn't he?


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments!!! Are you ready for John to return 'home'?

John felt more and more nervous the closer they got to the house, which happened at an incredibly slow pace. He was still slow and clumsy on his crutches and his leg hurt the longer he was on his feet. John couldn't wait to sit down again, but first he would have to have a look at the house. _His_ house.  
As soon as he had stepped out of the car, John had realized that it was lovely. An ideal home in an ideal, quiet neighbourhood for someone like him. Yet whoever he was, that person was foreign to John. He didn't remember buying a home or marrying the woman who was currently walking next to him. A big part of him wanted nothing more than to go home, back to his old flat, his old life and pretend that nothing had changed in the past five years. But it had. Oh, it had. And maybe even for the better? He was sure he would find out soon enough.  
Clara unlocked the door in front of him and opened it wide to allow him to step, or rather hobble, inside and John glanced around the strange place. Nice corridor, elegant, homely. And yet utterly unfamiliar.  
“Come on,” Clara said to him in a tone that was probably supposed to sound cheerful, but she failed to hide her confusion entirely. John could scarcely imagine what the situation must be like for her. “I'm sure you want to sit down.”  
“You read my mind,” he mumbled while he followed her into the living room. Even though he didn't really know Clara at all, he had seen enough of her to tell that she was kind and sweet, but there was something about her that told him she could probably be very bossy as well. He could imagine all too well why he must have fallen in love with her because he liked her even now without knowing anything about her. His memories would come back eventually. Probably. Hopefully.  
The living room he soon entered wasn't exactly what he would have called his style, so John assumed that Clara had done most of the decorating, which was very fortunate in this case. He liked it. A large sofa facing a telly, coffee table, two chairs and walls framed almost entirely by book cases. Clara seemed to be an avid reader and a couple of Jane Austen novels took the prime spot at the centre.  
“I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of any thing than of a book! When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library," John said, nodding towards the books and then turning to face Clara with a smile.  
However he found a strange expression on her face, something between sadness and hope. He watched as she opened her mouth, but no sound came out.  
“Did I say something wrong?” he asked.  
“No,” Clara replied instantly, her eyes growing wider. She really had beautiful, large eyes. “No, not at all. It's just-”  
“Just what?”  
She hesitated for a moment, her face growing sadder by the second. “When we first talked you quoted Jane to me, too. That's how I knew I wanted to meet you,” she explained, a light but sad smile on her lips.  
“Apparently you did,” John said, smiling back at her.  
Right now John wished that he could remember. It seemed so strange that he was supposed to have found someone and married her, someone so young and beautiful and intelligent. He wanted to remember how that had happened because he couldn't imagine it at all.  
“I'm gonna make a cup of tea. Do you want one?” she asked him.  
“Yes,” he nodded, “Tea would be lovely.”

John turned around and took another long look around the place, admiring how clean it was and assuming that Clara had left to go to the kitchen when suddenly he heard her voice again.  
“Do you like it?” she asked, “The house?”  
He turned back towards her, for a moment not knowing what to say. “It's. . . uhm. . . it's nice. We. . . we chose it well, I suppose.”  
“We did,” Clara confirmed and John could feel that there was more coming, that she hesitated to say it. “You'll remember, won't you?”  
John swallowed hard. He was a doctor, so he knew that it was likely he would remember most of what had happened in time. But as a patient he just couldn't imagine it right now. He couldn't imagine that five whole years were gone from his head as if they had never happened.  
“Yes,” he lied. He hoped.  
When Clara had left the living room to prepare their tea John sank down on the sofa just as the door bell rang. He groaned when he realized he was going to have to get back up again when Clara shouted from inside the kitchen.  
“Stay put, I'll get it!”  
With a sigh John sank back into the sofa cushions and listened to Clara's footsteps on the corridor before the door opened and he could hear voices. John couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but he didn't actually have to as they both stepped into the living room a few moments later – Clara and a rather chubby, bald man who looked a bit simple.  
“Hi,” the man said and raised his hand to wave awkwardly at John, “Just wanted to see how you were.”  
“Uhm,” John hesitated, not quite sure what to reply or even who that man was. Luckily Clara jumped in immediately.  
“This is Nardole, your receptionist,” she explained kindly, “And a good friend.”  
“Hello,” John said sheepishly, not knowing what else to say. He didn't remember Nardole, but he remembered Missy asking him to fire his receptionist for being an imbecile.  
Then he watched Clara turn towards the chubby man. “We only just got home. Maybe you should come back tomorrow or in a few days when John has settled in.”  
“Of course,” Nardole smiled broadly, “I just wanted to let you know that everything's taken care of in your practice. No need to worry.”  
He looked at John. “Good thing about memory loss is that I can make a second first impression, hopefully a better one, huh?” he asked, still smiling.  
Maybe Missy was right and he really was an idiot.  
“Alright, I better get going,” he said with another waving gesture, “See you around.”

Clara left the room with him to show him out and John let out a sigh once he was alone once more. As much as he had hated being confined to the hospital bed, this didn't seem much better at the moment. He wasn't comfortable here in a strange house with a strange woman, no matter how nice she was to him. He felt like a guest, nothing more. According to everyone else he had been so in love with her that they had annoyed everyone else with their flirting and now he couldn't even find a spark of that emotion inside of him. It always took him a very long time to let someone close and now he was here, forced to be around Clara, forced to be in this house that didn't feel like his own at all. How long would it take until his memory came back? Would it come back at all?  
“I prepared the downstairs bedroom for you.”  
John looked up when he heard Clara's voice and found her standing in the door frame, holding two steaming mugs. She was so small and she seemed even smaller now that he realized how sad she was. Sad and pretty.  
“I thought you might not be able to handle the stairs with the crutches,” she added, “Or want to share a room with me.”  
“I haven't even considered that, but you're right,” he said, lifting up one of the crutches and avoiding to answer the second part of her assumption. He didn't need to cause her any more pain. “Might be a bit difficult with the stairs.”  
Clara gave a short nod and suddenly John felt overcome by the urge to do something for her in return. She was so nice and considerate towards him, which to her was probably a natural thing, but John still wanted to repay her for her kindness. And maybe if he acted like her husband, or at least like a friend, he would start to feel a little more at home here.  
“So, what did we do? Before the accident? As a couple on a day off?” he asked carefully.  
Her face lit up just a little. “Well, the weather is nice, so we probably would have gone out to do something, but seeing as your leg is in a cast we probably would have opted for sofa and telly,” Clara told him with a sheepish smile.  
John returned her smile while he scooted over and patted the empty space next to him. “Well, I guess this is my chance to relive seeing some movies for the first time.”  
“That's not funny,” Clara argued, but her eyes betrayed that she was secretly amused. Nevertheless she stepped forward and eventually took a seat next to him before she set the mugs down on the coffee table in front of them.  
“It is a bit.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the long and lovely comments! ARE YOU ALL EXCITED FOR DOCTOR WHO TONIGHT????!!!!

Clara woke up and instantly reached for the other side of the bed, only to find that it was still empty – and then she remembered. She had taken John home the previous day, but it was as if he wasn't here at all. The person sleeping downstairs was John, but he wasn't her husband. All those moments they had shared together, all those kisses, they had never happened for him at all. Right now it seemed as if life was playing one of its cruel jokes on her – giving her hope only to take it away again. Would John ever remember? Dr Martha Jones had said he probably would and John had told her the same thing, yet he hadn't really sounded convincing at all, as if he didn't really believe it himself. It had been days and John didn't show a single sign of progress. What would happen to them if he never remembered?  
Suddenly the ringing of her phone tore her from her thoughts and Clara reached for the annoying device and looked at the screen, only to realize that she didn't recognize the number that was calling her.  
“Yes?” she croaked into the phone in a voice that was still heavy with sleep.  
The caller hesitated for a moment. “Hi,” came a reluctant voice that sounded all too familiar because Clara heard it every time she spoke.  
“Bonnie,” she growled and sat up in an instant, “Where did you get this number?”  
“Gran,” her sister replied, “She didn't want to give it to me, but I practically begged he-”  
“She shouldn't have,” Clara spat angrily. She would have a word with her grandmother later. “You turned your back on this family when we most needed to stick together. You can't come back now and act as if everything was fine. I can't just pretend that never happened.”  
“You can't just pretend that I don't exist either!”  
“Yes, I can. Don't call me again,” Clara snapped and pressed the red button, ending the call without further warning.  
Bonnie had some nerve calling her out of the blue and so did her grandmother for giving out her number when she knew exactly how Clara felt about the matter. Angrily she threw her duvet aside and reached for her robe, determined to think about the matter over a cup of coffee

However, when Clara arrived downstairs and stepped inside the kitchen, she found another surprise waiting for her and this time it was a good one. The table was already set with a broad selection of breakfast food and John leaned against the counter, his crutches propped up next to him, and poured freshly brewed coffee into two mugs.  
“I remember Dr Jones telling you to rest,” she said with a smile and John turned around to look at her.  
“Oh, good morning,” he said, sounding surprised, “I didn't think you'd be up already.”  
Clara shrugged. “I have to go back to work today.”  
“Right,” John exhaled sharply and then looked a little uncomfortable, “Uhm, sorry, what was your job again?”  
“I'm an English teacher,” she explained to him, granting him a smile, “And there's no need to apologize. Especially not when you're making breakfast for us.”  
Clara walked up to him and took the coffee mugs from his hands before she made her way towards the table. John reached for his crutches and followed her, seemingly relieved to be able to sit back down.  
She instantly reached for a slice of toast and started to spread jam all over it when Clara suddenly became aware of the fact that John was watching her, his eyes fixed on her face. She looked back up.  
“Is something wrong?” she asked and took a bite off her toast. Clara waited for a moment, chewing her food, and yet John didn't reply. He simply remained staring at her.  
“What?” Clara chuckled nervous, “What are you looking at?”  
“Nothing,” he mumbled and quickly lowered his gaze to his plate, but obviously found that it was too empty to serve as a proper distraction.  
“You can say it,” she prompted him, “Even if you don't remember, we've known each other for years. You can trust me with anything.”  
“It's just-” he paused, “I was just thinking that-”  
“That what?” Clara asked. She had no clue what he was aiming at.  
“That you're really pretty,” John said sheepishly, his gaze still glued to empty plate in front of him.  
She couldn't help the smile that spread over her face when she heard him say those words. John might not remember all those moment they had shared together, but that was definitely a start.  
“Oh, uhm, before I forget,” he added and at the same time reached for a slice of toast, “Thanks for bringing some of my clothes downstairs. But have you seen my favourite plaid trousers?”  
“Your what?”  
Finally John looked back up at her and he looked about as confused as she felt right now.  
“Please tell me I still have those plaid trousers.”  
“Well,” Clara hesitated and racked her brain for the right answer. She vaguely remembered seeing a pair of plaid trousers in the back of their wardrobe, but she had never seen John wear them. “Yeah, I guess they're upstairs in the wardrobe. I could try to find them after work.”  
“That's alright. No hurry,” he said before he took a sip from his mug, “Would you like me to make dinner when you come home?”  
Clara smiled at him in reply. “We can cook together,” she determined and decided to focus on her breakfast again. Yes, it was definitely a start.

* * *

Walking upstairs with his crutches was easier said than done and John needed quite some time until he had finally reached the top of the stairs. How he was going to get back down was a question for later.  
Once Clara had left for work John had started to examine the house, looking for clues, trying to put the puzzle pieces of his life together. Photos of him and Clara seemed to be all over the place as well as some romantic notes that he had found taped to the fridge. It was more than obvious to him by now that before his accident he and Clara had been madly in love and a part of him wanted to be even now. However, there was one thing he hadn't yet managed to find out. The letter and cheque he had carried around on the day of his accident. There just had to be a clue somewhere.  
John opened the nearest door and a moment later he found himself standing in what could only be the master bedroom and somehow he hesitated to step inside. It felt a little as if he was trespassing, invading Clara's privacy even though this was his room as much as hers. She wouldn't mind him being here and yet it felt strange. John still decided to have a look around.  
The bed was large and of course he found more photos on both bedside tables. When he turned around he also spotted his guitar propped up in the corner of the room and to his dismay it was coated in a thick layer of dust. Had he not played recently? But even if that was the case, he would have to ask Clara to bring it downstairs for him. He could hardly manage the heavy solid body with his crutches, but while he was upstairs John decided he could go on a hunt for his favourite trousers. Clara's reaction to his question had been odd, as if he hadn't worn his plaid trousers in the past few years at all. But that didn't matter right now, the important part was that he soon found them on one of the shelves at the back of the wardrobe.  
Luckily the legs of the trousers were loose and he managed to pull them over his cast somehow and as soon as he was wearing them, John felt a little more like himself. Maybe it would all turn out well after all.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the comments! Also I am terribly sorry to do this to you after last night, but. . . have this chapter. It's also a bit cute ;)

John was only halfway downstairs when he heard someone ring the doorbell furiously. He rolled his eyes and quickly considered his options – there was no way he would could get to the door within the next minute.  
“I'm coming!” he shouted, “Slowly. Very slowly.”  
He hobbled further downstairs, but realized there was no point trying to hurry up when he heard a key being inserted into the lock and the door opened.  
“Stay put. You need rest,” John heard Missy's voice on the corridor, “Thank God you gave me a key so I could water your plants while you were on holiday.”  
Missy approached him quickly and a few seconds later she turned around the corner. John was about to greet her, but his friend was a lot faster.  
“What in God's name are you wearing?” she sighed and shook her head, “I thought I had told you to burn those ridiculous trousers. I know we're Scottish, but they just make you look like a retired punk, you know?”  
“Well, I like them,” John retorted and made one last step until he finally felt the floor under his foot again.  
“You haven't worn them in years. I told you that if you wanted any kind of chance with Clara, you better throw them out. You listened to me back then. Listen to me again – burn them, pour acid over them, cut them into tiny, little pieces – doesn't matter. But get rid of them.”  
“No,” John growled and then raised his eyebrows as a question started forming in his head, “Hang on, _you_ watered our plants while we were on holiday?”  
Missy scoffed. “Of course not. I forgot.”  
“Right,” he blew the air out between his teeth, “Remind me, what are you doing here?”  
“Checking on my friend, of course,” Missy replied as if it should have been obvious, “Making sure you're not doing anything stupid. Like dressing up as a punk grandpa that is going to get booed off stage. Why aren't you sitting down?”  
With a sigh John tightened his grip around his crutches and started to make his way back to the sofa with Missy following him on his heels. She was right, of course, he leg was aching a little and his arms felt sore from dragging himself upstairs and back down. He needed a moment of rest.  
“So, how was your first night at home?” his friend enquired curiously while she sank down next to him into the sofa cushions.  
“Uhm,” he hesitated, “Good, I guess. Bed is a lot more comfortable than in the hospital.”  
“And Clara?” she arched up her eyebrows, “Did you. . .”  
“Did we what?”  
“ _You know._ ”  
John let out a groan and rolled his eyes. “Missy, even if it wasn't for the memory loss – my leg is in a cast!”  
She gave a shrug in reply.  
He took a deep breath and sank further into the pillows. “Clara is a lovely woman. She is sweet and absolutely beautiful. I like her, but you know me better than anyone else. You know how long it takes me to get close to someone.”  
Missy snorted. “You bet I do. Took you nearly a year last time. And that was with my help. Without it you probably still wouldn't be married.”  
“I'm making an effort with Clara. I want to get to know her,” he replied truthfully and turned around to look at his friend. The way she glanced at him was somewhere between sorry and sympathetic. “But it's gonna take time.”  
Missy sighed. “Do you think slapping you across the head will bring your memory back?”  
“What?”  
Before John could react Missy had reached out and given him a whack over the back of his head.  
“Ow!”  
“Mh,” she shrugged and leaned back against the cushions, “It was worth a shot.”

* * *

“I'm home,” Clara announced loudly as she stepped through the door, carrying two large pizza boxes on her arms, “I hope you haven't started making dinner yet because I brought food.”  
She found John where she had hoped he would be – sitting on the sofa, a book on his lap and he granted her a shy smile. Clara also noticed that he had obviously been upstairs and found the trousers he had asked her for earlier and she had to suppress a chuckle. Somehow he looked somewhere between cool and ridiculous.  
“I've considered it,” he admitted, “But then I realized I didn't know what you like, so I thought I'd wait for you.”  
“Wise choice,” she said and plopped down next to him on the sofa. Her feet were tired after a long day at school and Clara was insanely hungry. Thank God she had had the idea to buy dinner on the way. “Because I've stopped by the pizza place we usually order from. I brought your favourite.”  
Clara handed John the box and he opened it curiously, eyeing the contents inside before a smile spread across his face.  
“Mhhh, that looks good,” he inhaled deeply, “And smells good.”  
Clara looked down to his trousers once more and let out a sigh when she imagined how he must have struggled to get upstairs without help.  
“You know, you could have waited for me to get home. I would have found the trousers for you,” she said sincerely.  
John turned his head to look at her. “I was bored earlier and decided to have a closer look at the house. I hope it was okay that I went into the bedroom?” he asked, seeming a little nervous, “I wasn't sure whether-”  
“It's fine,” Clara reassured him instantly, “It's your bedroom, too. I just thought you wouldn't want to go upstairs just now with your leg. So if there's anything else you need-”  
“Actually,” John interrupted her, “My guitar.”  
Clara smiled when he mentioned his instrument, hoping that he wanted it so he could pick up playing again. She missed his little music sessions.  
“No problem. I'll bring it down right after dinner,” she told him with a smile.  
Still John looked at her, the tiniest frown on his forehead. “It looked rather dusty. Have I not played much lately?”  
“Sadly not,” Clara said, “I don't know why, but I'm guessing it was Missy who kept telling you that it was silly. I'd love to hear you play again.”  
“I'm sure that can be arranged,” John smiled at her.

Clara reacted on impulse even though she probably should have thought about it before she reached for his hand and squeezed it in her own. She just missed John so much, missed touching him, hugging him, kissing him, but she should have known better because they had been through it once before.  
John instantly flinched and pulled his hand away from her.  
“Sorry,” Clara mumbled, “Sorry, I know you're not good with touching. I shouldn't have.”  
He exhaled sharply and hesitated before he spoke.  
“No,” he replied quietly, “I'm sorry. I want to make an effort.”  
Carefully he placed his hand back on the sofa until it came to rest right next to her own.  
“Please,” he said, his voice almost a whisper, and lowered his gaze, “Let's try again.”  
After taking a deep breath Clara reached out once more and gently laid her hand on top of his own, this time without squeezing it. She could feel John tense up under her touch, but after a moment he slowly started to relax. They would have to do it all over again. Step by step. Clara needed to earn his trust once more.  
“We'll get along somehow, won't we?” John asked carefully.  
“Yes,” Clara replied with a nod, “I'm sure we well.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments!!! Also, remember the photos of Peter walking on a cane and sporting a beard? Yeah, time to invoke those now. . .

John eyed Dr Jones doubtfully as she handed him the cane and he wasn't sure whether he should take it or not. He had hoped to just start walking normally after they had taken his cast off, but now that he was finally rid of it, he wasn't sure that he could. He hadn't properly used his leg in weeks.  
“It's just for a few more weeks,” Martha Jones reassured him with a smile, “Take it slow. Use the leg, build the muscles back up, but don't overdo it.”  
“Fine,” John growled and took the cane from her.  
He set it on the floor and slowly lifted himself from the examination table, finally using both feet to keep himself up. It felt strange to be using two legs after all these weeks and John wasn't sure how much further he should go for now. Carefully and relying on the cane, he stepped forward.  
“Very good,” Dr Jones praised him cheerfully, “And by the time you get used to the cane you won't even need it anymore, I promise. Come, sit down for another moment.”  
Martha Jones took her seat behind the desk and John walked carefully across the room until he had reached the other available chair to sit down on. He waited for a moment, but his doctor only eyed him expectantly.  
“Is there anything else?” he enquired.  
“Well, I was hoping you'd tell me about the last couple of weeks. How's the memory? Have you remembered anything?”  
John blew the air out between his teeth as he sank back into the chair. Weeks had passed since his accident, but he couldn't actually say there had been progress during that time.  
“Nothing,” he replied eventually, “Just. . . nothing.”  
Martha Jones looked a little disappointed before he could see the concern on her face. If all those years of being a doctor had taught him anything, then that Dr Jones hadn't expected him to still remember nothing and that now she wasn't sure what to do.  
“I live in my old house with my wife and it's getting less and less strange, but-” he paused, “I'm making new memories, getting used to everything instead of remembering. I don't think that's normal.”  
“It's not abnormal,” Dr Jones reassured him, “I told you it might take a while for your memories to return. No one can really say if it takes days or weeks or months. Everyone's different. Some remember after days, some-”  
“Never,” John said with a grunt.  
“That's the rarest case,” she said calmly, “It's only been a few weeks, Mr Smith. Give it time. I'm sure your wife and friends are helping you with it?”  
John nodded even though it wasn't particularly true. Missy was of no help whatsoever. She visited him every couple of days just to tell him to stop being an idiot and get back together with Clara. As if that was so easy. His wife was the the kindest and loveliest person John had ever met and yes, he liked her – a lot. But John had always needed time to adjust to someone, especially on a physical level. They were making progress and he was fine with holding her hand by now, but anything else was simply too much at the moment. He needed time and Clara was nothing if not understanding and patient with him. One day he might even love her for that.  
“We can schedule another MRI scan,” Dr Jones suggested, “But I don't think it would give us any new insight. I'm afraid that all we can do at this point is wait.”  
Again he nodded in response and tightened his grip around his walking aid. “Well, I guess I shouldn't leave my wife waiting,” John concluded and rose to his feet. Calling Clara his wife still felt as strange as standing on both feet, mostly because he didn't even remember marrying her. If he did, he probably would be proud to call her that.

* * *

Clara jumped up from her seat the moment the door opened and she watched John walk outside, accompanied by his doctor. Her face lit up when she realized they had finally taken off his cast and she could imagine how happy John was about the fact. He had been moping for the past week since they had told him he needed to keep the cast for a few days longer, but now he was finally rid of it. His leg had healed well since the accident and yet Clara wished that she could say the same about his memory.  
In the past few weeks they had rarely talked about his memory loss because Clara felt like she was putting him under pressure to remember whenever she mentioned it. Instead she had taken to mentioning things they had done together, places they had visited, items he had bought for her whenever it came up, but John usually showed no reaction. It felt as if she was telling him stories that he couldn't relate to at all. Right now, as Clara looked at him, all she could think about was how much she was missing her husband, who was around, but not really there at all. 

“Hey, how did it go?” she asked when John started walking in her direction. Somehow he looked extremely sophisticated with the cane they had given him and Clara loved the fact that he had gone back to wearing a beard. Her husband looked downright dashing today.  
“Uhm, it went well,” John replied after a moment, “They took off the cast.”  
“I can see that,” Clara nodded towards the cane.  
“Right,” John replied with a shy smile, “Sorry.”  
“No need to apologize,” she shrugged, “I actually like that you're a bit of an idiot at times.”  
John turned to look at her and the expression on his face was somewhere between confused and hurt. Clara laughed at him.  
“I was kidding,” she laughed, giving him a soft nudge, before her face turned serious again, “Or was I?”  
“Right,” John smiled at her, “You're teasing me.”  
“Absolutely,” she confirmed, “So, do you wanna grab lunch somewhere or go straight home and eat there?”  
“Home sounds good,” he replied and lifted his cane a little, “Dr Jones said I shouldn't overdo it.”  
“Alright. I think we've got everything for pasta at home,” Clara suggested and started making her way towards the exit.

When they arrived at home a half hour later John had started to complain that his leg felt sore, so he sat down on one of the kitchen chairs while Clara busied herself at the stove.  
“You know,” Clara said with a smile as she stirred the boiling pasta and turned around to look at John, “I really like that cane on you.”  
He lifted his head and again there was an expression of confusion on his face. “It's a walking aid.”  
“I know, but-” she paused, unsure of how to express herself, “I don't know. It looks. . . sophisticated, I guess. The ruffled hair, the beard, the cane. It's . . . sexy.”  
Clara bit down on her lip and she couldn't be absolutely sure because John quickly averted his gaze, but for a moment she thought she had seen him blush.  
“It's just a walking aid,” he uttered quietly.  
“Fine, it's just a walking aid,” she admitted after a moment, “One that looks really good on you.”  
Clara missed her husband in more than one way. She didn't just miss the companionship they had had before his accident, the conversations, the hugs – she missed the intimacy as well. But she knew John and she knew how shy he had been when they had first met. It would take a lot more than just a few weeks for him to adjust to the idea.  
John never replied, so Clara decided to focus on making lunch instead.  
“Pasta should be ready in a few minutes,” she said after a moment.  
“Good.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *big group hug* Thank you for the comments, guys :) Buuuuuut you know what they say. . . one step forward, two steps back. . . or maybe not?

The weather was disgusting and wet and incredibly cold for a day in May, so John's leg was aching more than it usually did. He had already come to terms with the fact that it was now sensitive to changing weather, but that didn't mean he liked it. His only hope for today was that a hot bubble bath might ease his pain, so he used the moment when Clara had retreated to her bedroom with a book to go upstairs into the bathroom.  
John turned on the tap and adjusted the temperature, feeling somehow that the water couldn't be hot enough on a day as cold as this. When he had finally found the right temperature John began to strip out of his clothes. He had only just folded his plaid trousers and placed them neatly on the lid of the toilet when suddenly the door burst open. As if by instinct John reached for the nearest towel when Clara walked into the room without announcing herself, but she had already seen him before he had even had a chance to cover himself.  
“Clara,” he blurted out and tightened the towel around his waist, “I was. . . what are. . . Can't you knock?”  
“Sorry,” she giggled, however, there was no sign of remorse in her expression, not even a hint of it. Clara seemed more amused than anything else, something that only made him feel more bashful than he already did. “You do realize that I've seen you naked before, right?”  
John paused and he had to admit that Clara wasn't entirely wrong about that. She had most certainly seen everything about him and vice versa, but the problem was that he couldn't remember any of that.  
“Well, that's not entirely fair, is it?” he asked nervously, “I mean, I can't remember seeing you naked, so-”  
“Would you like to?”  
Her question hung in the air, unanswered for a long moment. John opened his mouth to reply, but no sound would come out while Clara was smiling at him. Why was she smiling? What was her plan? John felt so confused right now that he wasn't sure about anything, not even the answer to her question.  
Then, before he had even answered at all, Clara raised her hands behind her back and opened the zip of her dress. John seemed frozen on the spot when the piece of fabric fell to the floor, leaving Clara in just her underwear. He was sure that there was something he had wanted to say, but it had slipped his mind. Yet she didn't stop at just her dress and John realized that it was too late to turn around in a vain attempt to be a gentleman when her bra joined her dress on the floor only seconds later. When she pulled down her knickers John finally found his voice again, if only for a brief moment.  
“Clara,” he uttered hoarsely, unable to tear his gaze away from the naked figure in front of him. Clara was so beautiful that once more John found it hard to believe she was truly his wife. So young, so perfect. For a second John wondered what it would feel like to touch her flawless skin, to feel her heartbeat with his palm under her beautiful breasts.  
“We're even now,” Clara said with a light shrug, smiling at him.  
“I suppose so,” he replied quietly, his eyes still glued to her naked body. John didn't want to look away at all. He wanted to take in the sight, study her, memorize all the little details about her body. She really was perfect and John felt glad that she allowed him to look. 

Then suddenly, to John's surprise, Clara stepped forward.  
“Do you want to touch me?” she asked kindly and John suddenly felt his pulse race, along with a surge of panic. He wanted to and yet he didn't. He would have been perfectly happy just to look for now.  
“Come on,” Clara said and attempted to reach for his hand, but John couldn't do it. It was too overwhelming, too much at once.  
“I'm sorry,” he mumbled before he grabbed his plaid trousers and hurried out of the room.

* * *

Clara rose from her bed and decided that it was time to finally stop crying, so she wiped the tears from her eyes and looked into her bedroom mirror. Her face was red, eyes puffy and her make up was all over her face. She should have known. She shouldn't have pushed John. They had been married for over a year and known each other for five, Clara knew that he was shy and that he needed time, especially now. But she just missed him so much that the situation seemed almost unbearable. All she really wanted was her husband back.  
Clara took a deep breath and wiped the smudged make up away from under her eyes. It shouldn't be so damn obvious that she had been crying when she went to him to apologize.

Clara didn't even need to guess where he was when she heard the soft tones of a sad song come from his room and this time she knocked before she stepped inside. John sat on his bed, his cherry red guitar on his lap, and he looked up when she entered the guest bedroom.  
“I'm sorry,” she said quietly.  
With a sigh John placed the guitar back on its stand and scooted over a little to make room for her on the bed. He gestured for her to sit down.  
“I'm sorry, too,” John replied, “I didn't mean to insult you.”  
Clara sank down on the bed next to him, but she didn't dare to look at John now. She didn't want him to see the remainder of her tears. They would only make him feel bad and that was the last thing she wanted because he was doing none of it on purpose. He was her husband and he needed her support, even though Clara wished she could have some in return.  
“You didn't insult me. I pushed you and I shouldn't have. I know you need time.”  
“But you have needs as well,” John noted thoughtfully, “And I can't fulfil them right now.”  
“It's fine, I'll be fine. It's not forever,” she argued, “You will remember eventually.”  
“What if I-”  
“Shut up,” Clara interrupted him sternly and finally turned around to look at him, “You _will_ remember.”  
John stared into her eyes for a long moment before he nodded. “I want you to know that I'm trying, Clara, but it's a lot.”  
“I get that,” she replied, her voice almost a whisper.  
“You've been so kind to me, you've taken care of me. I want to do something for you in return.”  
A small frown appeared on her face when he said those words and she wasn't exactly sure what John was implying right now. What was he talking about?  
“Whatever you want, name it,” John said.  
Clara searched her brain for a good answer, but all she really wanted was for John to remember – and that wasn't something he could give her. So what else could she ask of him?  
“Could I have a hug?” she enquired carefully, “I'd really like a hug now.”  
John hesitated, but after a few seconds a smile appeared on his face and he carefully spread his arms.  
“From hand holding to hugs, that's a big step, but-”  
Clara didn't let him finish in case whatever he was going to say could change his mind. She flung her arms around his chest and hugged him as tightly as she could. In return John carefully closed his arms around her back, his touch light and careful, but it was still so much better than Clara would have imagined and she vowed to enjoy every second of it. His body was warm and comforting against her own and the familiar smell of his aftershave let her forget about everything else for just a small moment. Clara closed her eyes and sighed. Right now she loved him so much that it hurt.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments!!!! Now, let's see what Missy has to say about those two idiots. . .

“Drink!” Missy ordered him and held another bottle of beer into his face when John had barely finished his first.  
He raised his eyebrows doubtfully. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”  
“Of course,” she rolled her eyes in annoyance, “So you'll finally stop pussyfooting around and tell me what's really on your mind.”  
With a heavy sigh John leaned back in his seat and eventually took the bottle out of Missy's hand to have a sip. “Clara,” he admitted after a moment.  
His friend snorted. “Never would have guessed.”  
John glowered at her, but decided to let her comment pass.  
“Really, it's not that tough a guess. That's all you've been doing for the past five years,” she told him and then went on to imitated his voice, failing miserably, “Clara this. Clara that. Clara Clara Clara.”  
“Can we please have a serious discussion about this for once?!” John spat and Missy instantly went quiet. He heard her take a breath and eventually she granted him a sympathetic smile.  
“Thank you,” he growled and sipped his beer. He wanted to open up to Missy, that was why he had invited her over, but not if she treated it as a joke. “I like Clara. I've only known her for a short while and you know how long it takes me to warm up to people, but I like her. I wish my memory would come back because I can feel that I'm hurting her, that she's suffering and yet all she ever does is to be kind to me, to help me. I'm not sure if I want to remember for myself or. . . for her.”  
Missy just raised her eyebrows in response.  
“Well, she deserves it, doesn't she? According to you she's the woman that turned my life around and for her I became the perfect, loving husband who makes thoughtful gifts like retrieving her mum's lost necklace all the way from Italy. Clara is amazing, she is everything a man could ever wish for. She doesn't deserve this,” John said, gesturing towards himself.  
“On second thought,” Missy mumbled and leaned across the sofa to take the beer bottle away from him, “Alcohol has always made you a little soppy.”  
“How can I remember?” he let his head sink with a groan, “What do I have to do to remember?”  
“I'm assuming you still haven't had sex?”  
John's head shot up and his entire body twitched at the thought about that. Yes, at some point he would like to be intimate with Clara, but that point was still far in the future. They had only just managed a hug. He needed time.  
“Don't look at me like that,” his friend told him defensively, “Maybe shagging her will trigger your memory.”  
John scoffed.  
“You did that quite a lot before your accident.”  
“Oh really?”  
Missy took a large sip from her beer bottle. “My last birthday party. The basement. Not that I minded that, but I'm certainly not sending you two to fix a blown fuse again. The theme was roaring 20s, not _dinner in the dark_.”  
John only nodded, not knowing what he was supposed to say to that. He doubted that Missy would lie about such a thing, but he still found it hard to believe.  
“I'm serious, John. Give it a go. Can't get worse than it already is, can it?”  
“I think-” he paused and suddenly he wasn't sure whether he had interpreted the signs right, “I think Clara has been flirting with me lately.”  
“You _think_?”  
“Well, she, uhm,” he stammered, lowering his gaze to his own feet, “She said I looked good with the beard and cane. And she-”  
“She what?”  
“She took her clothes off,” John mumbled quickly and reached for the beer bottle again, taking it back from Missy to have a sip just so he would have something to do. He couldn't look at her while he was telling the story.  
His friend, however, laughed. “She took her clothes off? When? How? In what context? John, I need details.”  
He inhaled deeply before he started telling Missy about their encounter in the bathroom and she listened intently, beaming at him as she did.  
“Okay, yes, she was definitely coming on to you, so have sex with her!”  
“Missy,” John hissed, “I haven't even kissed her yet.”  
“So do it!” she told him, “Forget about your shyness and your reluctance for once. Clara is your wife and she loves you and she is only waiting for you to make a move. And who knows, maybe it really will trigger your memory.”  
John took another sip of beer, but suddenly he couldn't help but think that maybe Missy wasn't so wrong after all. This wasn't a usual situation. He already knew that Clara liked him. He really had nothing to lose.

* * *

Clara had stopped sobbing a while ago and now she was only crying quietly, her head in her grandma's lap while she gently stroked her hair. It felt good to be comforted for once, to just let herself fall and give in to all the tears she never dared to cry at home. She was trying so hard for John, but after the last couple of days Clara had really needed to get away for just one evening, just to be allowed to cry.  
“He'll come around eventually,” her granny whispered after a long while, “Just remember how long it took him the first time. It's just who he is and because John is still exactly who he has always been, I am certain that he's going to fall just as madly in love with you as he did the first time. If he doesn't remember before that happens.”  
“How can you be so sure?” Clara asked, sniffing.  
“Because he'd be stupid not to and he knows it. You said he's making an effort, so he knows you're worth it.”  
Clara lifted herself into a sitting position and looked at her grandmother. There was nothing but compassion in her eyes.  
“But what do I do in the meantime?” she asked, “What do I do? I'm not sure I can stand this for much longer. I'm trying so hard, I'm trying to be nice and kind and give him the space he needs, but he is my husband and I love him and when I look at him all I see is that he doesn't even know me. It hurts. It hurts so much.”  
The tears came back before Clara could stop them and once more she collapsed into her grandma's embrace. She couldn't be strong for much longer.  
“I love him,” she whispered, “But to him I'm just a stranger. A nice woman that he has only just met.”  
“He will remember.”  
“I'm not so sure about that,” Clara admitted, swallowing hard, “I don't think John is sure either. He says he will remember, but I doubt he believes it. Maybe he doesn't even want to.”  
Her grandmother scoffed softly. “Now you're being silly. Of course he wants to remember and you're going to help him. Recreate what you had in the beginning. Your friendship. Go down that route again and I'm sure it's only a matter of time. You two are made for one another. Why wouldn't it work a second time?”  
Before the accident Clara would have agreed with her grandmother on the spot. Before the accident she had believed that there was nothing in the world that could tear them apart after everything they had been through together. But now Clara really wasn't sure and she didn't think she still had enough strength to hope.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments :) So, when do you think we'll get the first kiss?

Clara woke up feeling like she had been through hell, her head was throbbing and her face felt hot and swollen after crying herself to sleep the previous night. She had gotten home late after spending the evening with her grandmother and John had already been in bed by that time, so she had simply fallen down on her bed and she had cried until her exhaustion had finally gotten the better of her. Now, apart from the nasty effects of dehydration, Clara felt a little better. Her grandmother had successfully managed to rekindle her hopes. Her marriage to John was strong, their love for each other even stronger. If they couldn't fix this, Clara doubted that any couple could.  
She lifted herself up and threw her bathrobe over her nightie to go downstairs and see if John was already up, but as she stepped into the living room, Clara found it very much empty apart from an unholy mess of beer bottles, Scotch and two empty bags of crisps whose content had apparently been emptied all over the floor. It was more than obvious that Missy had spent the evening here.  
When she didn't find John in the kitchen either, Clara moved on to the guest bedroom and entered after a careful knock on the door. John responded with grunting and by pulling the duvet over his face.  
“Hangover?” she asked carefully, a soft smile on her face.  
Another grunt.  
“You should know better than to let Missy talk you into drinking Scotch,” Clara remarked and stepped forward until she had reached his bed. Carefully she pulled the duvet away.  
“How did you know Missy was here?” John asked, his voice husky. He looked adorable with his messy bed head.  
“The Scotch only comes out when your friend is here,” she explained with a shrug, “Do you want breakfast?”  
John uttered a low groan. “Not just yet,” he said and suddenly his face turned into a frown when he looked at her more closely, “Are you okay? You look sad.”  
“It's fine,” Clara replied instinctively.  
“Liar,” he mumbled and then John started moving in bed, rolling further towards the wall to make some space for her. “Come on, tell me.”  
With a sigh Clara climbed into bed next to him and she wasn't sure whether John would actually expect her to lie down, but then he lifted the duvet and used a part of it to cover her body. It felt almost normal, but Clara could tell that there was still a wall between them.  
“I had a. . . not so nice evening,” she admitted after a moment, “It's better now.”  
“Because of me,” John added. It was statement, not a question, and Clara didn't have the strength to deny it because he already knew the truth.  
“It's okay,” he said, “It's okay to admit that you're not fine. I don't think anyone would be under the circumstances.”  
“I want to be strong,” Clara whispered and looked him straight in the eyes.  
Then, to her surprise, John chuckled. “Clara, you are probably the strongest person I have ever met.”  
She smiled at him in reply. “Doesn't count. You've forgotten everyone you've met in the past five years,” she said, giggling softly and luckily John laughed with her. It felt good to just joke about it for a change and for just a moment the heaviness of their situation lifted.  
With a sigh John closed his eyes. “Five more minutes, okay? Then we can have breakfast.”  
“Okay,” Clara breathed in reply and closed her eyes as well, enjoying the fact that he allowed her to lie next to him.

* * *

“ _Shit!_ ”  
John opened his eyes when he became aware of movements next to him and Clara stumbled out of bed, cursing bitterly.  
“What?” he croaked, “What's wrong?”  
“Overslept. Work. Gotta go,” she panted as she darted towards the door.  
“Clara,” John mumbled and slowly lifted himself into a sitting position. His head was still pounding with a nasty hangover and right now he dearly hoped that Missy was suffering just as much, though, knowing her, she probably wasn't. He needed painkillers. He needed coffee. And he needed Clara to be a little less hectic. “Calm down.”  
“Can't. School. See you tonight,” Clara replied and a few seconds later the door closed behind her.

John let himself sink back into the pillows and blew the air out between his teeth. The morning had started so well, apart from the hangover, and he hated the fact that it had come to such an abrupt end.  
Last night Missy had coaxed him into making a decision. It had taken a few beer and an additional glass of Scotch, but finally he had agreed and his decision was still standing this morning. He would kiss Clara. The thought of it made him nervous and it frightened him, but he wanted to do it. For Clara and for himself. John would prepare a lovely dinner for them both, surprise her with it when she returned home from school, and at the end of the night he would kiss her. Unless his courage failed him. But first he had some other things to do.  
He reached for his cane and slowly started to make his way to the bathroom to have a shower. He put on a clean pair of plaid trousers and his favourite holey jumper. He swallowed some painkillers with his coffee, followed by a light breakfast, and then he headed out of the house.

His practice was quiet when John entered through the front door except for the constant ringing of the phone. When he glanced at the reception he found the receptionist in his chair, feet up on his desk and a magazine on his lap. Nardole seemed very good at ignoring the ringing phone and not in the least disturbed in his reading.  
“Aren't you gonna answer it?” John asked.  
“No,” the receptionist replied and turned to the next page without looking up, “It's Mrs Henderson asking when Dr Smith is going to be back. How do I know that? Well, maybe because she's been calling every day for the last three weeks.”  
“Maybe you should tell her that he'll be back next week,” John suggested and finally Nardole looked up.  
“Oh, it's you,” he said, but there was neither surprise nor shock in his voice and he didn't even move to lift his feet off the table.  
“Yes. Me. Feet off the table,” John demanded and gestured towards him with his cane.  
“Yes, boss,” Nardole mumbled and lifted himself into a standing position. Then, after a moment, a smile spread across his face. “You're back.”  
John smiled at him in return. “Yes. I suppose it's time. I'm tired of sitting at home, so I might as well make myself useful again.”  
“Very good, sir,” he beamed back at him before his face turned into a grimace, “To be honest, I was beginning to run out of interesting magazines. Boring times.”  
John raised his eyebrows. “Or you could, you know, do your job? Answer the phone?”  
Nardole turned his head towards the ringing machine when it finally ceased and John thought that his receptionist seemed visibly relieved about the fact. Maybe Missy wasn't so wrong about him after all.  
“Shame,” Nardole remarked with a smile when he turned back to look at John. “They've hung up.”  
“Right,” he replied and vowed to keep a closer eye on Nardole's work attitude in the future, “Tell my patients to expect me back on Monday.”  
“It's Friday. Office hours end in ten minutes.”  
“Yeah, well, I'll still be back on Monday,” John said determinedly as he made his way towards the door. When he had almost reached it, however, a thought crossed his mind and he turned back around to face Nardole. “You don't happen to know what Clara's favourite food is, do you?”  
His receptionist shrugged and granted him an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”  
John sighed. He would just have to improvise and hope for the best. “Alright. See you on Monday.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the sweet and frustrated comments :D Now, could this chapter contain what you all wish for? Read it and find out. . .

It was perfect. Everything was perfect, including John, who felt perfectly nervous. He had been extra careful preparing the lasagne that was now in the oven, he had set aside a bottle of wine and was now considering having a glass already just so he would feel a little less terrified, but eventually thought better of it. He was going to kiss Clara tonight, he was going to make that step and yes, by now he was already sort of looking forward to it. How could he not? Clara was smart, funny, loving and very, very pretty. John would have to be both blind and stupid to not want to kiss her.  
How had it happened the first time? Their first kiss? John didn't know and he vowed to ask Clara about it later, but he felt quite sure that she must have made the first move back then. He would never have dared to kiss her.  
When the doorbell rang, John's heart skipped a beat. The moment had come and his body was already tingling all over with excitement. Could he even wait until after dinner? He threw a last glance at the oven and realized that the lasagne would still need a moment, so John took a deep breath and went to open the door.  
“Hi Clara,” he beamed at her, “Did you forget your key?”  
She hesitated for a moment as if she was confused about something and John felt the need to give her the good news straight away. She had overslept this morning and left the house in a hurry. Her day probably hadn't been very nice, so he was now determined to make it better.  
“I made dinner,” John announced happily.  
Finally her face lit up and Clara smiled at him. “Well, I can't say no to that, can I?” she said and stepped through the door, “Must have left my key at home this morning. Sorry about that.”  
John breathed in deeply, trying to get his pulse back under control. Waiting until after dinner was going to give him a heart attack.  
“What did you cook?” Clara asked him when he had followed her into the living room.  
“Uhm, I made lasagne,” he replied and then granted her an apologetic look, “Sorry, I wanted to make your favourite, but I didn't know what that was.”  
“Lasagne is perfect,” she replied with a smile.  
“So, uhm, what is your favourite?”  
In response Clara giggled. “Tell you what. You'll keep cooking for me and when you've found my favourite, I'll let you know.”  
John laughed nervously. “That's, uhm, that seems fair.”  
He looked at her for a long moment, watching her smile at him in return, waiting for her to say something because he had no clue how to go on.  
“So, do you need help with dinner or anything?”  
“No,” he said before his voice turned a little more harsh, “No, absolutely not! You will sit down and not lift a finger.”  
Clara raised her hands in a surrendering gesture while she sank down on the sofa. “Alright, not going to argue with you,” she replied, “I'm not stopping you. Go for it!”  
John frowned at her. “For what?”  
“Well, best husband award, obviously. I'm assuming that's what you're trying to do here.”  
“No, it's you,” he argued and instantly Clara raised her eyebrows, a sheepish smile on her lips.  
“Just in case you haven't noticed, John, you just said you're trying to do me,” she laughed after a moment.  
“Do you _a favour_ ,” he growled, “Stop laughing!”

John still heard her chuckle when he turned around to head towards the kitchen and he groaned internally. The whole situation was utterly weird and he felt like he was the one making it weird by being a nervous wreck.  
When he glanced into the oven, John found yet another disappointment. He had neglected to switch it on and now the lasagne would need a lot more time than he had expected. Damn, he needed to get it over with. He needed to kiss her just to get this damn nervous feeling out of the way. With a heavy sigh he reached for the wine and the glasses and went back into the living room.  
Clara was still exactly where he had left her, sitting on the sofa and turning a book over in her hands before she discarded it on the coffee table.  
“Sorry, I'm afraid the lasagne will need a bit more time,” John said, granting her an apologetic smile while he held up the wine and glasses. “Wanna start with a drink?”  
Clara gave a shrug. “Why not.”  
He opened the bottle and proceeded to pour them both a glass, trying very hard to keep his hands from trembling as he did. Usually Clara had a way of making him feel better, making him feel at ease around her, but tonight his fear seemed to overshadow everything else. Tonight he just couldn't seem to connect with her.  
“So, uhm, how was your day?” John asked as he handed her the glass. He took a huge sip from his own, only just resisting the urge to empty it in one go.  
“Ah, you know. Same old, same old. Teaching kids,” she said, “What about you?”  
“Uhm,” he began and then smiled at her, “I went to my practice today. I think it's time I started working again, you know. Maybe it'll help with the memories and if not, at least I'll have something to do.”  
Clara nodded, sipping her wine.  
“What do you make of Nardole?” John couldn't help but ask, “He seems a bit. . . odd, doesn't he?”  
She snorted in reply. “Have you looked at yourself lately?” Clara asked him, glancing down at his plaid trousers.  
“Okay, good point,” he admitted and continued to drink his wine. It wasn't really helping. He needed to get it over with. He needed to kiss her. Now.  
“Clara, I need to tell you something,” he said nervously and averted his gaze, “I'm really nervous tonight because I've had a discussion with Missy and she's right and I'm absolutely terrified.”  
“Why? What's wrong?” Clara asked him and he could hear the frown in her voice.  
“There's something that I need to do, that I _want_ to do and it's scaring me because I'm really bad at intimacy and I've made dinner so we could have a nice, romantic atmosphere, but it's not working and I don't know what to do,” he blurted out, “I want to kiss you.”  
“Okay, John, stop-”  
“No, let me finish,” John interrupted her, still not brave enough to actually look at Clara while he said what he felt like he needed to say, “I want to do it for both of us. I know you want it, I know you've missed it and I want to try it.”  
“Really, John, I have to tell y-”  
He didn't let Clara finish. He couldn't wait a moment longer or his heart might jump out of his chest in fright. John looked up, leaned forward and pressed his lips on hers before Clara had a chance to finish her sentence.

John had expected a lot of things to happen. That his memories would come back, overwhelming him in an instant, that he would die of sheer fright, that he would chicken out at the very last second. What he hadn't expected was for Clara to push him away and what surprised him a lot more was that it hurt when she did.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the many, many "WHAAAAT?"s :D Now, let's see why Clara pushed him away. . . .

John stared at her for what seemed like an eternity and yet the look he got in return from Clara only added to his confusion. He tried to think of a better word than abhorrence, but couldn't come up with one.  
“I'm not Clara!” she told him and John had no idea what to say.  
Then a sound from the other end of the room started him and John turned around to see Clara standing in the living room. He looked back to the person next to him on the sofa. Clara. Back by the door. Also Clara.  
John couldn't say how often he had managed to turn his head back and forth until Clara, the one in the doorway, finally found her voice to speak. She seemed furious.  
“You. Are. Dead,” Clara hissed towards the other woman and now John finally noticed it. The woman next to him wasn't Clara, but he could only see the difference now that he had compared the two of them. The clothes she wore weren't right. Her tone of voice wasn't right. John hadn't even noticed before. They really looked alike.  
“It's not what it looks like,” the other woman said, granting her an apologetic smile, “There has just been a misunderstanding.”  
“Oh, really?!” Clara yelled, “Cause for a moment I thought I had seen you kiss my husband!”  
The other woman opened her mouth, but John cut her off. Before both Claras started to get into a fight, he had some questions that he would really like answered.  
“Can anyone tell me what the hell is going on here?!” John enquired loudly and rose from his seat. He took a couple of steps back so he could look at both of them at once. The one on the sofa definitely wasn't the real Clara and somehow he felt like he should have seen it. But how could he have seen it? He hardly knew Clara at all.  
“I'm Bonnie,” the woman on the sofa replied, “Clara's twin sister.”  
“No!” Clara said harshly and suddenly approached the sofa too quickly for him to react. She grabbed Bonnie's arm and yanked at it until she was forced to stand up, “You're leaving, that's what you are! Get out!”  
Clara shoved her towards the door.  
“Out!”  
“I just came to talk!” Bonnie yelled back in defence.  
“No, you came to mess with us!” You knew about John and that he wouldn't recognize you! You-”  
“Clara,” John said softly, “Please, I think it's just a misunderstanding.”  
Bonnie's gaze shifted from Clara to him and for a moment she looked almost grateful, but there was something else. Something he didn't really understand.  
“I'll go,” Bonnie said eventually, “I'll leave you alone.”  
John watched as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small note that she left on the table next to her.  
“That's my new address,” she explained, “In case you want to talk or, you know, burn down the building.”  
“I think that's more your area,” Clara growled. She stepped forward and took the note, crumbling it in her hand and throwing it in the direction of the bin. She missed.  
Bonnie nodded and slowly turned around to leave, but not without throwing another glance in John's direction.

When the door closed behind her, John heard Clara take a deep breath before she buried her face in her hands. She was upset and she had every right to be. After all, she had just witnessed her sister and husband kissing.  
“I'm sorry,” he apologized quietly, “I'm sorry, I didn't know. I didn't realize she wasn't you. I should have seen it.”  
“No,” she replied quietly and finally lifted her hands from her face to look at him, “It's not your fault.”  
“You're still upset.”  
“Of course I'm upset!” Clara shouted at him and the sound of her voice made him flinch, “My sister is a bitch and always has been! Grandma must have told her about you and she used the situation for her games, to mess with me! None of this is your fault!”  
“Then why are you yelling at me?”  
“Because it hurts!” she admitted and all of a sudden there were tears in her eyes, “Because everything just keeps getting worse and worse and there's no end to it! You and Bonnie! Why can't it be like before the accident? Why can't she just disappear?! Why can't I just have you back?!”  
“Clara-”  
“I know it's not your fault! I know you're trying!” she sobbed, her voice growing quiet, “But I am still furious and I just want my husband back.”  
John didn't think. He wasn't even nervous anymore. The only thought in his head was the sudden urge to comfort her, so he stepped forward and laid his hands on her cheeks as gently as he could. He swallowed, gathering up all of his courage and then bent down to give her a short, soft kiss on the lips.  
“I'm sorry,” John whispered.  
Clara exhaled sharply and closed her eyes, the tears still running down her cheeks.  
“It's the beard, isn't it? You're crying cause it's itchy,” John joked cause right now he felt at a loss as to what else he could do to make her feel better.  
To his relief she laughed. “No, silly.”  
When she opened her eyes and looked at him John cursed himself once more for not realizing earlier that Bonnie was Clara's twin sister. It had all felt wrong right from the start and he had ignored it. There hadn't been any connection between them, not like the connection he had with Clara right now. With her it just felt easier.  
“Come on,” he said softly, “Why don't we sit down? I've got a lasagne in the oven and you can tell me all about Bonnie over dinner?”  
She hesitated for a moment and John felt like she was about to say she wasn't hungry, so he wanted to be faster than that.  
“You skipped breakfast. You should at least have a decent dinner,” he argued.  
“Fine,” Clara agreed, finally cracking a smile.

Ten minutes later they were both sitting on the sofa, a plate on their laps and eating their dinner. Clara told him about Bonnie, about their teenage years, their mother's death and how she had ended up in prison.  
“So, she wants to reconnect?” he asked, stuffing more lasagne into his mouth.  
“That's what grandma said. I don't know what she wants. I'm not sure I want to know,” Clara sighed, “Bonnie is dead to me.”  
“She's your sister,” John argued and suddenly an idea crossed his mind, “Have we talked about this before my accident?”  
“No,” she said instantly, “I didn't know she was in town until after your accident. Why?”  
John couldn't really say why. It was just the way Bonnie had looked at him right before she had left and his own gaze now wandered back to the little slip of paper next to the bin. He had an inkling, but he wasn't sure.  
“Doesn't matter,” John said, “Do you like your lasagne?”  
Clara smiled at him. “It's delicious. Thank you.”  
“Can I ask you a question?”  
“Uhm, sure,” Clara nodded.  
“How was our first kiss?”  
To his surprise Clara started to chuckle while she put her empty plate away and leaned back on the sofa. “Basically, you were an idiot,” she explained, laughing softly.  
“Apparently I'm always an idiot. Tell me,” John prompted and made himself comfortable on the sofa next to her.  
Clara started telling him their story that had started on a quiet Christmas Day a few years ago and he listened intently. His memories didn't resurface, but he could very well imagine how that man in her story must have felt because he was experiencing feelings that were quite similar right now.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you sooooooooooooooooooooooo much for the wonderful, lovely comments, especially those really long and elaborate ones!!! Really, thank you so much!!! You have no idea how they make me smile cause I'm so happy that you love my fic!

John realized that he probably should have come in early and inspected his practice a little more closely because after Nardole had told him that Mrs Henderson would be his first patient today, he had spent no less than ten minutes looking for the patients' files until his receptionist had kindly pointed them out to him – after letting him search for a while. The more John saw of that man the more he thought that Missy was probably right.  
“Send her in in five minutes,” John told his receptionist, “I want to have a look at her file first.”  
“Yes, boss,” Nardole replied and left John to himself inside his office. He glanced around for a moment and realized that he had no clue where everything was. He had never even wanted his own practice, but now that he was standing inside of it John thought that it wasn't so bad after all. At least it meant no more night shifts and his practice was just a short distance from his house. Yes, maybe it had been a good decision after all.  
John made his way around his desk and sat down, instantly noticing the large, framed photograph placed where he could see it at all times. A photo of him and Clara outside on a sunny day, their arms slung around each other. They looked so happy that it brought a smile to his face even now. And yet John got the distinct feeling that something was missing from the picture, he could almost _feel_ its absence. What could it be? John racked his brain, trying to figure out what exactly what it was and then it hit him and he wasn't quite sure what to make of that sudden feeling.  
Children.  
He and Clara had no children. But why was it bothering him?

John didn't have time to finish his thought when the door opened and an elderly lady stepped inside.  
“Good morning, Mrs Henderson,” John greeted her and gestured towards the chair in front of him. He assumed that it must be his patient and the woman didn't protest, so he must have been right. “What can I do for you today?”  
“Ah, Dr Smith, it's the usual,” the old woman complained.  
John raised his eyebrows at her and then swiftly glanced down at the notes he had scribbled down in her file. _The usual_ , in her case, seemed a lot. He sighed and decided to start by taking Mrs Henderson's blood pressure.

* * *

John had his hand in his pocket as he approached the building, turning the little note over between his fingers while the other hand still held his cane. Maybe it was a bad idea to come here, but he had questions and no one else had been able to give him a good answer. Bonnie was currently his only clue. He rang the doorbell.  
Clara's sister looked surprised when she opened the door after a few moments and stopped. “I didn't expect to see you,” she said, but after the surprise had passed she held the door open for him and John stepped inside.  
He knew even less about Bonnie than he did about Clara, except for what she had told him a few days ago, so he looked around her flat for any kind of information about what kind of person she was – and found nothing. The flat only held a few essentials, a sofabed, a box for a coffee table, a small folding table and two camping chairs in the kitchen area and a rack that served as wardrobe. Bonnie had nothing.  
“I suppose you've come to give me a good scolding,” she said after a moment and looked straight at him, “Well, go ahead. Shout at me all you want.”  
John frowned at her in reply. “I came to talk,” he explained, “I'm confused and I need some answers.”  
Bonnie nodded and eventually pointed at the sofa. Reluctantly John sat down next to her, now uncertain how he should begin. He hadn't really thought about what he was going to say to her, he had simply picked the small note with Bonnie's address off the floor before Clara had had a chance to throw it away for good and he had come here, utterly unprepared.  
“Why did you pretend to be Clara when you stopped by on Friday?” he asked eventually. Yes, that seemed like a good point to start.  
Bonnie shrugged. “It wasn't planned,” she said simply, “I mean, I knew about your condition and I realized you didn't know who I was, so when you offered me dinner I just went with it. I thought it couldn't hurt. I didn't think you'd kiss me. I just did it for the free food.”  
Something about her answer made John chuckle.  
“What? You're not mad?” Bonnie asked him, frowning.  
“Well, I know someone who definitely is,” he replied, “Your sister.”  
She lowered her gaze until it was fixed on her own feet that Bonnie suddenly seemed to find very interesting and John thought that it was time for the next question.  
“What do you want, Bonnie? Why did you stop by the house?”  
“I don't know,” she sighed, “I don't know what I want. I guess I just want to talk to her, see if there is something that we still have in common. Clara and I were never thick as thieves. I was always jealous of her because she was the favourite. She was always the good one, always the smart one, she had the right friends, she got the good grades. I hated her as a teenager.”  
“What changed?” John wanted to know and Bonnie looked up at him, but she didn't reply. “You went to prison, didn't you?”  
“Yes, and I have no intention of going back,” she said harshly right before her features softened again. Bonnie granted him that look, that grateful look she had already given him during the fight with Clara. “You came to talk to me before, you know. Grandma told you about me before she told Clara about it. You said you should be the one to tell her.”  
“What did I say?” he enquired curiously.  
Bonnie smiled weakly. “You said that Clara had given you a second chance at life and that that was something everyone deserved. You offered me money, but I refused.”  
John reached into the inside pocket of his coat and drew out the envelope that he had pocketed this morning when he had started to consider paying Bonnie a visit. It had to be for her.  
“I don't think I was going to take no for an answer,” he said and handed her the letter, “I had this on me the day I had the accident. Couldn't figure out who it was for, but I think it's meant for you.”  
Reluctantly Bonnie took the letter from him and opened it. John watched while she read it and eventually her gaze shifted towards the cheque.  
Her head shot up. “I can't accept that.”  
“Yes and you will,” John told her, “I can't promise you that Clara will accept you back after everything that has happened, but you're still family. And you deserve a fresh start with a little more furniture than this.”  
John gestured towards the folding table and eventually Bonnie sighed.  
“Will you talk to Clara?” she asked after a moment.  
“Not right now,” he shook his head, “No, I don't think she'd listen to anyone right now.”  
“It's kind of your fault,” Bonnie shrugged, “You kissed me.”  
John glowered at her in response.  
“Okay, yes, I shouldn't have pretended to be Clara,” she admitted, “It was kinda cute how nervous you were about kissing her though. But, please, don't ever kiss me again. One time was more than enough.”  
“Agreed,” John said and rose to his feet. He reached for his cane and started making his way towards the door when Bonnie spoke again.  
“Thank you, John,” she said sincerely, “Clara is really lucky to have you.”  
He raised his eyebrows at her across the room. “Lucky to have a husband that doesn't remember her?”  
“Yeah, but that's the thing. She should be a stranger to you and here you are, cooking for her, making an effort, taking care of her criminal sister because she's family.”  
“I made a promise,” he said simply, giving a light shrug of his shoulders. He had married her even though he didn't remember doing so. “I have a duty of care.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you sooooooooooooooooooo much for your amazing comments! I blushed mercilessly when I read them! Thank you!

When Clara woke up on Saturday morning, she was surprised to realized that she was actually feeling good and her mood only improved more when she glanced out of the window and noticed that the weather seemed perfect. She felt confident, absolutely confident that this weekend would be a good one. Clara and John had been getting along well lately and he seemed happy about going back to work in his practice, so she was determined to take their relationship one step further.  
After throwing her duvet aside, Clara grabbed her robe and made her way downstairs, only to find John already fiddling with the coffee maker.  
“Morning,” he greeted her with a smile, “Did you sleep well?”  
“Very well,” she grinned at him as she slid into her seat, “You?”  
“Like a baby,” he replied.  
“We should go out together,” Clara blurted out immediately, smiling broadly at him, “The weather looks amazing. At least from the inside.”  
John's gaze shifted towards the window. “It does indeed,” he agreed after a moment, “So, what would you like to do?”  
Clara gave a shrug. “Greenwich is probably nice.”  
He nodded in agreement. “We could go to see the Cutty Sark. I've never actually been there,” John said.  
They had gone to the Cutty Sark together during one of their earlier dates, but Clara thought that it probably wasn't the best moment to bring it up. Instead she would show it to him again and she had no doubt that he would enjoy it just as much as he had the first time around.

After breakfast both Clara and John got dressed and boarded the first bus that took them in the direction of Greenwich. Clara had been right in her suspicion that it would be a lovely day because the sun was shining and it was warm, overall a perfect spring day.  
“How is the leg?” Clara asked him after a while when they had been walking towards the ship for a few minutes.  
He was still using his cane, but Clara got the impression that he didn't depend on it as much as he had in the beginning.  
“It's alright at the moment,” he said, “It's the bad weather days that make it ache, but I suppose I've still got time until August.”  
“August?” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Why August?”  
John turned around to look at her. “The ball,” he replied as if it should have been obvious, “We've got tickets, remember?”  
And just like that a smile spread across Clara's face. She hadn't thought that he would still want to go with her while his memories hadn't returned.  
“Who's the one with the memory loss?” John chuckled when Clara didn't reply immediately. Her surprise must have been written all over her face.  
“I remember. I just didn't think you'd want to go with me.”  
“Well, like I said. We've got tickets and apparently I promised before the accident,” he replied and looked ahead. They had arrived at the ship by now.  
“Yes,” Clara giggled, “Yes, you did.”

After having a look at the ship's interior John and Clara also decided to take a tour through the Maritime museum around the corner and to her own amusement she realized that the accident and his memory loss hadn't changed John in the least. He pointed out the exact same things like last time and he even made the same joke twice, but Clara laughed and felt no need to point it out to him. Things were going well, really well, and she enjoyed his company too much to ruin it by talking about the accident or putting more pressure on him.  
Once they had finished their tour through the museum Clara noticed that John had started to limp just a little and suggested to sit down in one of the many cafés in Greenwich because her feet had started to ache just a little as well, even though her choice of footwear was probably to blame for that.  
They soon found a nice spot outside in the sunshine and over a cup of coffee and a piece of cake John started telling her about his first week back at work.  
“I think I actually like having my own practice,” he concluded and leaned back in his seat, “Feels good not having to do night shifts. Though I'm really not sure about Nardole. He seems. . . odd.”  
Clara chuckled. “He is odd, but give him a chance. He's been your receptionist since the beginning and he's actually nice. Once you get used to his sense of humour.”  
“Alright. I will,” he said, “But enough about me. How was your week?”  
Clara sighed. “Courtney Woods, my least favourite student, has introduced a new “game” to the class that whenever someone has to answer a question, Courtney and some other troublemakers try to make as much noise as possible by going through their bags or rustling paper or whatever. It's really annoying and the shy ones already have troubles speaking up.”  
John smiled at her in reply. “You should have her answer the question whenever she does that. Let's see how long she keeps the game going,” he suggested.  
“I'm not actually sure how much good that will do with Courtney, but it's worth a shot,” she said and really appreciated that John was listening to her, giving her advice. It felt almost like before his accident. They had always been a team and a good one at that.  
“Can I ask you a personal question?” John suddenly asked and when Clara looked at him, his eyes was fixed on the empty plate in front of him.  
“Sure. What is it?”  
“Why don't we have children?” he enquired carefully.  
Clara smiled at him even though right now he couldn't see it. “We wanted children. We've been trying for months, but it hasn't worked out so far. Why are you asking?”  
“Oh, uhm, no particular reason,” John replied and reached for his coffee to have a sip. Clara got the distinct impression that there had been some reason for his question, but whatever it was, he obviously didn't want to share it with her right now.

* * *

John slumped down on the sofa and the relief was instant. His leg had started to ache a while ago and it felt so good to not have to rely on it any longer. For a brief moment he even wondered if Clara would be willing to get him something to drink later because he had no intention of moving any time soon.  
“I've had a lovely time today,” he called out and a second later Clara appeared in the doorway, carrying two bottles of beer. Apparently he had married an angel. “And it was very good of you to pretend that we haven't been there before.”  
“How did you know?” Clara asked as she sank down next to him and handed him one of the bottles.  
“Well, it took a bit to figure out what that amused look was for, but eventually it clicked,” he chuckled before he took a large sip from his beer.  
“I had a great time, too,” Clara admitted after a moment and adjusted her position on the sofa, tucking her feet away and turning to look at him. She was still smiling and under different circumstances John might have been wary of that look, but right now he simply enjoyed being on the receiving end of her smile. Strangely enough, it was a sight that made him happy.  
“We could, uhm, watch a movie?” he suggested.  
“No,” she said thoughtfully, “I have a better idea.”

John's intention had been to ask what her idea was, but he didn't even have time to open his mouth before Clara leaned forward until their lips touched. Maybe if she had announced it, John would have declined, but when she kissed him his heart suddenly started racing inside his chest. He had no idea what to do, no idea what Clara expected of him, but there was one thing he was fairly certain of: the butterflies in his stomach told him he didn't mind the kiss in the slightest.  
Then finally John opened his mouth to let her in and he felt her tongue against his own, reluctant at first, testing, and he was so grateful that Clara allowed him to take his time exploring her. He was barely even aware that his hand had started to wander as well, landing on her hip, his fingers softly digging into her flesh while he pulled her closer. Of course he had married this woman, because how could he have resisted? Everything about her was sweet and perfect, from the way she talked to the way she kissed him.  
Suddenly Clara moved and a moment later she swung her leg across his legs and straddled his lap, pressing herself tightly against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her, their lips never parting in the process. A strange, tingling feeling spread through his body and John thought that he never wanted that feeling to end. It was sweet and alluring and just a tiny bit arousing. Then Clara moaned into his mouth right before she broke the kiss to catch her breath. When she distanced her face from his own, Clara was smiling and John couldn't help but smile back.  
“Definitely a better idea,” he breathed.  
“I've got another one,” she said and slid her hand between them until it came to rest on his belt, her fingers just inches away from his member that was slowly beginning to harden inside his trousers and all of a sudden John froze.  
He had never been good with intimacy and it had taken him a very long time to trust his first wife in that way or the girlfriend he had had before her. Even though John knew that he was married to Clara and a part of him could feel a bond forming between them even now, he wasn't ready. Not yet anyway.  
“Too soon?” she asked carefully. Obviously Clara knew him better than he would have thought.  
He nodded in reply. “But the part before that was great,” he answered nervously, “We could, uhm, do that. . . again?”  
Clara smiled at him before she bent down and locked their lips in another kiss and John was only too ready to yield to it this time.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the comments :) Well, what could the future possibly hold for them? One word: trouble (cause everything else would be boring) ;)

John smiled when his gaze fell on the framed photograph on his desk as he rose from his chair. Somehow looking at the photo made him happy, it gave him a warm feeling of love and home and he wasn't at all scared to admit that he was falling in love with his wife – a second time. Clara seemed to be everything he could ever wish for and he was so grateful that she gave him the time he needed to adjust to the situation. Sooner or later it would all work out, he was sure of it.  
Suddenly the door to his office burst open, tearing him out of his thoughts, and a terrified looking Nardole stuck his head through the crack.  
“Boss, there's an unannounced patient. I tried to send her away, but-”  
“For the love of God, I am not a patient!” Missy's voice came from the other side of the door and a moment later it swung open before marching inside.  
“Are you sure?” Nardole asked her carefully, eyeing her with suspicion, “You look pale.”  
“That's rich, coming from a Michelin man like you. Tell me, where are your eyebrows?”  
Nardole open his mouth to reply, but Missy didn't give him a chance.  
“Nevermind. John probably stole them. He does that, you know, even though I've told him a hundred times.”  
John frowned at the pair of them before he cleared his throat. “Uhm, Missy, we wanted to go for lunch? Unless you'd rather stay here and bicker.”  
“Absolutely not,” she spat in Nardole's direction and turned around on her heels, leaving John no other choice but to follow her.

They found a café close to his practice where John had had lunch a few times already and settled at a table in a quiet corner. He was hungry and instantly reached for the menu.  
“The beard is gone,” Missy noted after a few moments, causing John to raise his head and look at her.  
“Yeah, I shaved it during the weekend,” he replied and lowered his gaze back to the menu. The bacon sandwich sounded really delicious.  
“Which means you and Clara are at least snogging – finally.”  
He dropped the menu back on the table, realizing that they wouldn't eat before Missy had learned everything he had been up to lately and his stomach growled in response. The bacon sandwich would have to wait for a few more minutes.  
“Don't deny it, John, I've known you since we were children. There's nothing I don't know about you.”  
He glowered at her. “Well, that only means I know just as much about you.”  
“Wrong,” Missy sighed, “You're missing five years. So, tell me, how's it going with Clara?”  
John leaned back in his seat and couldn't help but smile when he thought about Clara. Just the fact that he was going to come home to that wonderful woman tonight made him insanely happy.  
“I think I'm starting to remember,” he said and when Missy raised her eyebrows he quickly moved on, “Well, not memories, not things, but. . . feelings, I think.”  
Still his friend gave him a questioning look as if she was waiting for him to elaborate, yet he couldn't quite put into words what he had experienced.  
“Okay, so, there's a photo of me and Clara on my desk-”  
“I know, I took it.”  
“Anyway,” John went on, ignoring Missy's interruption, “When I saw it I got this strange feeling that-”  
“It's called a boner, John.”  
He inhaled sharply and tried his best to swallow the comeback. Missy was unbelievable sometimes, but he had learned that usually it was best to just ignore it.  
“I felt like something was missing, I actually felt it and it bothers me even now. Clara and I wanted kids and I can feel that we did. It's like a hole in my life that can't be filled with anything else and I don't remember that being there before. Before Clara I hadn't wanted children at all,” he explained.  
Missy sighed audibly. “You do realize there's only one way you're gonna get kids, right?”  
“I know,” John breathed in reply, “And we're working on that. I'm-”  
“You're what?” Missy enquired.  
He looked up, staring right at her and for once she didn't seem to be in a joking mood.  
“I'm falling for her, Missy,” he explained, “I'm falling in love with Clara. She's amazing.”  
To his surprise Missy smiled at him in reply. “I knew you would. She's perfect for you.”  
“I should thank you, I suppose. You set us up in the first place.”  
“You're welcome,” his friend granted him a smug smile.  
“As for the rest, I'm glad Clara is fine with taking things slow. I'm getting to know her, I'm learning to love her and I'm enjoying it,” John said happily, “But I don't think I could go further right now.”  
“Well, I doubt she's gonna leave you any time soon,” Missy shrugged and then, to John's relief, the waiter finally appeared to take their order. He was almost starving by now.

* * *

“How much longer is this going to take?” Clara asked in annoyance while Amy dragged her into the nearest shop. They had been at the mall for hours and her feet felt tired and Clara wanted nothing more than to finally go home.  
“Just this one,” her friend said as she came to a halt in the middle of an expensive lingerie shop, “It's my wedding anniversary this weekend and I want to surprise Rory with something sexy.”  
“Fine,” Clara sighed, “But can I wait outside? My feet are killing me.”  
“Absolutely not,” Amy insisted, “You will stay here and we'll pick something for you, too.”  
She rolled her eyes. “Just in case you haven't noticed, my sex life is kind of dead at the moment.”  
“Precisely. So we'll find something sexy that will bring it back to life.”  
She let her gaze wander around the shop and considered her friend's suggestion for a moment. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. After all, she and John had been snogging a lot lately, including a bit of fumbling. She had seen how it had aroused him on multiple occasions and yet Clara could remember all too well how harshly he had reacted to seeing her naked the first time – but that had been before their kiss. Maybe his attitude had changed. Maybe it was time for the next step.  
“Come on, don't tell me John isn't the lingerie type,” Amy nudged her gently.  
Clara smiled to herself. About a month before the accident Clara had surprised him with a new set of lingerie and he had been _very_ appreciative of that. Technically she wouldn't even have to buy a new set because he had no memory of the last one. But surely she could splurge just a little?  
“I think this one would suit you nicely,” Amy pointed at a set made out of red lace that seemed to leave very little to one's imagination.  
Clara chuckled. “I want to seduce my husband, not give him a heart attack,” she said, “No, I think something more subtle would be better.”  
Finally she had taken a liking to the idea and stepped further into the shop to have a closer look at what they were offering. It really wasn't that bad an idea and she missed John, the intimacy, the way he had made her fall apart under his touch so many times. Damn, they really needed to have sex again as soon as possible.  
As she approached the shelf, Clara noticed a nice, cream coloured bra. “I like this one,” she said.  
Amy wrinkled her nose next to her. “That's cute, but not sexy.”  
Clara smiled to herself. “Cute is exactly what I need, I think.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments, babes :) Will John finally give in to Clara's advances?

“I'm home,” John announced happily as he stepped inside the house. He left his cane by the door, feeling confident that he probably wouldn't need it to walk around the house any longer since his leg was healing nicely. But that wasn't the only thing that was slowly improving and a smile spread across his face when he thought about it. John was already looking forward to a wonderful evening on the sofa with a good movie and Clara in his arms – and hopefully some more kissing.  
“Clara?”  
John frowned slightly when she didn't reply and stepped further into the living room, finding Clara already sitting on the sofa. She beamed at him.  
“I brought home sushi. Come on, sit,” she replied and patted the empty spot next to herself.  
Still the frown wouldn't quite leave his face. Clara was dressed only in a flimsy satin robe as if she was about to go to bed already. That seemed unlike her.  
“Aren't you cold?” John asked her with concern while he sank down on the sofa, “I know I would be.”  
“Oh no,” Clara replied with a smile, “I just had a long bubble bath. I'm fine.”  
John watched as she stuffed a piece of sushi in her mouth and reluctantly reached for a piece as well, regarding it closely. He had never had sushi before – at least none that he could remember.  
“You've had it before and you liked it,” Clara said softly, “Trust me.”  
“I do trust you,” he replied, frowning at the food, “I just don't trust the fish. They always move around uncontrollably when taken out of water. They're like crickets or frogs, but with fins.”  
Clara chuckled next to him. “Just eat it, okay?”  
John took a deep breath, closed his eyes and finally stuffed the piece of sushi into his mouth. To his own surprise it didn't even taste bad. Clara had been right, he liked it.  
They continued to eat their dinner, exchanging stories about how their day had gone and Clara told him that she had been dragged to the mall by her friend Amy.  
“Did you buy anything nice?” he enquired and leaned back in his seat after he had shoved the empty sushi box aside. They should eat that more often from now on.  
“Yeah, I did,” Clara smiled at him, “Would you like to see it?”  
“Oh, no, you don't have to get up just to show me,” he replied instantly, “You can show me later.”  
Still the smile didn't leave her face and something about it was beginning to rouse a suspicion in John. Clara was up to something and he wished he could tell what that was, but he had no clue. He still didn't know her well enough for that.  
“I'm wearing it,” Clara said and suddenly sat up straight. Before John could make any sense of what was happening, Clara had started to untie her belt and spread both ends of her robe to reveal her nearly naked figure underneath. John's first instinct was to look away and grant her some privacy, but his eyes were fixed on her. It was as if his brain had momentarily ceased to work properly, as if he couldn't find a single clear thought except that she was his wife and she was beautiful and something about the situation was scaring him.  
“Do you like it?” Clara beamed at him.  
John swallowed hard and forced himself to look her in the eyes. This was flirting, Missy had told him so. Clara was coming on to him, trying to seduce him. But was he ready? John didn't think so. He wanted her, yes, but he wasn't ready to give up on the wonderful early stages of their relationship that he had come to love so much. The talking, the kissing, he loved that. Why was she pushing the rest when he wanted to enjoy what they had for a while longer?  
“It's, uhm,” he spluttered, “It's lovely.”

John didn't have time to stop her when Clara moved to straddle his lap and he instantly froze under her touch. He was so nervous that he couldn't even think of something to do or say, all he could do was to open his mouth to her when she pressed her lips on his own in a long, sensual kiss. Yes, he wanted her. But why the rush?  
Clara soon started grinding against him and John's body reacted instantly to her touch, pumping the blood away from his brain and making it even harder to think properly, but still one thought seemed as persistent as ever: to stop her.  
“I want you,” she breathed when their lips parted for a second and John could hear the arousal in her voice, “God, I want you. It's been so long.”  
“Clara,” he uttered breathlessly and before he could say any more, she bent back down to kiss him again, but this time John reached for her upper arms and held her at a distance.  
John could see the realisation strike her when she looked at him. She knew it wasn't going to happen and her eyes grew a little larger – and sadder. John reached out to cup her cheeks in his hands and tried his best to smile.  
“Not yet,” he said quietly, “I need more time.”  
She didn't say anything while she lifted herself off him and tightened the robe back around her body. John watched as she got to her feet and started pacing the room in front of him, obviously at a loss. He knew he needed to say something, anything that could make her feel better, but he had this inkling that she wouldn't like what he was about to suggest at all.  
“You've had time,” Clara said after a moment. She had her back turned to him, but John was fairly certain that she was about to start crying. “We've had time, a lot of it. It was going well!”  
“It _is_ going well,” John replied and rose to his feet, crossing the room until he had reached Clara. As gently as he could, he placed his hand on her shoulder and finally Clara turned around. Tears were streaming down her face already. Oh, this was going to be tough. He hated seeing her cry.  
“I love you!” she blurted out, “John, I love you and I want to be with you!”  
“I want to be with you, too,” he argued instantly. He did. He really, really did. “Clara, I need time. The last five years of my life are gone and you remember them. I understand that you are impatient and that you're waiting for everything to return to normal, but that's not gonna happen. Not at this pace. I'm getting to know you, I'm learning to love you, I have to do it all over again. I'm trying, Clara, I'm doing my best, but I just need time.”  
“I miss you,” she whimpered quietly.  
John granted her a kind smile. “Clara, you are amazing and I've enjoyed these past weeks a lot. You're such a marvel and it's so exciting. I want to do it slowly. I want to enjoy every moment of it. Do you understand that?”  
Clara sniffed in reply but eventually she nodded. The tears were flowing down her cheeks and she looked so broken that John hated to do this. He hated suggesting it to her because he was being selfish.  
“I think I should move out for a while.”  
Her eyes widened in horror as soon as the words had sunk in. “No,” she protested instantly and took a step in his direction until she came to a halt right in front of him. “No, John, no, please.”  
“Clara-”  
“I forbid it,” she was sobbing mercilessly by now and her hands reached for the lapels of his jacket, tugging at them in a pleading gesture, “No. I won't allow it. You can't leave me.”  
“I'm not leaving you,” he tried to say when Clara collapsed against his chest. She was crying uncontrollably and John could do nothing but close his arms around her in tight hug.  
“It's only for a while,” he whispered, not even sure if she could hear him right now, “I want to love you, Clara, but I need to go the long way round. I want to experience it like I assume I did last time.”  
“Please don't leave,” Clara begged him quietly, her voice hardly audible while her head was buried in his shirt.  
“I'll be back,” John told her and pressed a kiss to her head, “I'm sure of it.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the comments! Now, let's see what our favourite idiots are up to after their separation. . .

Clara was woken by the sound of her phone and she instantly noticed the heavy throbbing in her temples that was most certainly the result of a bottle of red wine and crying herself to sleep once more. She was definitely going to give her students some reading today so they would be quiet – hopefully.  
But there was still that annoying phone that wouldn't shut up and that continued to send surges of pain through her head, so Clara decided to answer it. It wouldn't be John. She had been hoping for him to call for a week now and she hadn't heard a single word from him. It was time for her to bury that hope.  
“Yeah?” she croaked into the phone.  
“You need to call him!” Missy's voice rang through her ears, shrill and sharp and too high-pitched for her current state.  
Clara groaned in reply and scrambled into a sitting position. The room was spinning a little and she was utterly dehydrated. Maybe she should call in sick just for the hell of it and continue to wallow in self pity for a while longer. Who could possibly hold it against her?  
“Clara, you _really_ need to call him.”  
Missy. Missy would hold it against her.  
“He left me,” Clara argued, “Why would I call him?”  
“He moved out _temporarily_ so you could start dating like a normal couple,” she replied, “Call him and start dating!”  
“If he wants to start dating, why doesn't _he_ call _me_?”  
“You do realize we're talking about John here, right?”  
Clara rolled her eyes at the phone. Of course she knew how John was and that it would probably take him ages to call her because he was shy and he was an idiot – but he had left despite her begging and pleading, despite seeing how much it hurt her. A part of her had even come to understand why he had done it, but he had still left and she was hurting because of it. He had said that he needed time and right now Clara was willing to give that to him. 

“Do you want to know what he's up to right now?” Missy asked her and she sounded a little cross, “He's moping in his room. He's been doing that all week. He doesn't talk, he doesn't do anything. He just sits in his room, listening to his silly music that I can't bear to hear for another day. Even his beard is growing back. Please, Clara, just call him. He's miserable without you.”  
“Well, that makes two of us,” she mumbled.  
“John knows he hurt you, so he's waiting for you to call and tell him when you're ready.”  
“I'm not ready,” Clara replied truthfully. She missed him terribly, but she wasn't strong enough for another disappointment. Just a few more days. Just a couple more. She would call him when she was sure she wouldn't burst into tears upon seeing him. “Now I'm the one who needs time.”  
Missy sighed on the other end of the line. “Great, just great. Just leave it to Missy to pick up the pieces.”  
“You'll take care of him, right?” she enquired.  
“I always do,” she groaned, “This is why I got him you. So I could take a break.”  
Clara wanted to reply something, but before she had the chance, Missy had hung up and all she could hear was the endless beeping on the other end of the line. She sighed and rose from her bed. Calling in sick and walloping in self pity wouldn't help her either.

* * *

“Aren't you forgetting something?” Missy asked while John was already halfway out of the door. He had almost groaned in annoyance. He had overslept and was already late, he didn't have time for his friend's guessing games.  
“What?” he spat.  
“Breakfast?”  
“Not hungry,” John growled in reply and headed out before Missy could say anything else. He wasn't in the mood for one of her lectures, he wasn't in the mood to discuss Clara, which was all Missy seemed to want at the moment. _Call Clara. Move back in with her. At least send her a text._ It had been going on since the day he had moved into Missy's guest bedroom. John wished he could just call her because there was one thing he had noticed the very next day: he missed her. He missed coming home to her, having her around, hearing her voice or her laugh. John just wanted to be with her, but he couldn't. Not right now. He had hurt Clara terribly when he had left and John wasn't sure whether she had forgiven him by now. Clara would probably let him know when she was ready, right? She knew he was waiting for her call, didn't she? John hoped that she did. 

When he stepped inside his practice, Nardole was already busy arranging the magazines and John watched him step back and admire his own work. He wished that his receptionist was as accurate in all of his tasks, but usually Nardole challenged every task assigned to him and only did them grudgingly. Then a far more important question started to form in his mind.  
“Why is it looking cleaner than usual?” John asked carefully.  
Nardole turned around and a rather false looking smile appeared on his face. “Oh, he noticed,” he remarked, “I cleaned up.”  
“That's. . . great,” he replied, a frown wrinkling his forehead, “Why though?”  
“Because of the student,” Nardole said as if it should have been obvious.  
“The student? What student?”  
“Med school student. She will be here all week, shadowing you,” his receptionist explained and wrinkled his nose, “I wanted to tell her to go away, but you insisted.”  
“Ah,” John said, “That was before my accident, right?”  
“Right,” Nardole nodded.  
“And you didn't think to remind me of that earlier?” John inhaled deeply. Well, it didn't matter now. The student would already be on her way. “Nevermind. When will she be here?”  
Nardole checked his watch right as the door behind them burst open and John turned around to watch a young woman step inside. She smiled broadly at the two of them.  
“Am I on time?” she asked happily.  
John smiled at her in reply and thought that it definitely could have been worse. At least she seemed enthusiastic and he hoped that some of her enthusiasm would rub off on him over the course of the week. He certainly needed a boost.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments :) Now, let's see who the med school student is. . .

John led the woman into his office and gestured towards the seat that was usually occupied by patients. She seemed nervous when she sat down and John decided to observe her for a moment to figure out what kind of person she was.  
“Why do you want to shadow me this week?” he asked after a moment.  
“So, uhm, basically I was just walking home from class when I saw this girl and she was totally gorgeous,” the woman beamed at him, “And I followed her and she just happened to walk into your practice and then the bald fellow-”  
“Nardole,” John explained.  
“Nardole asked me what I was doing here and I said I wanted to shadow you for a week and he wanted to send me away, at which point you came in and said it was fine. I asked the girl out for coffee after that, but she was a bit weird. It didn't really work out. Shame though. She seemed nice at first.”  
John frowned at her. “And how does that explain why you want to shadow me?”  
“Well, we have to. For class,” she shrugged, “You seemed awesome. I'm Bill, by the way.”  
“John Smith,” he replied.  
At that Bill suddenly burst into laughter. “John Smith?”  
“Yeah,” he frowned, “Why?”  
“Your name isn't John Smith, is it? I mean, what sort of parent would name their kid John when the last name is Smith? It sounds like a murderer. You're not a murderer, are you?”  
“If it makes it easier for you, you can call me Doctor,” he suggested, his bewilderment growing with every passing second. The woman was strange, but in an amusing way.  
“Now you sound like a drug dealer.”  
John shrugged. “Seems you'll have to choose between two types of criminals.”

Bill didn't even seem to hear his comeback when she leaned forward a little and inspected his desk, her eyes resting on the photo of Clara and himself. His heart ached when he looked at it. She knew he was waiting for her call, didn't she?  
“Is _that_ your wife?” Bill enquired curiously after a moment.  
“Yes,” John replied, unable to tear his gaze away from Clara's face, “Yes, that's her.”  
“ _Lucky you!_ ” she exclaimed, gawking at the photo.  
“Yes,” he said, his voice sad, “Lucky me.”  
Bill turned her head, looking right at him, and she was grinning. “She doesn't have a sister, does she?” Bill chuckled.  
“Uhm,” John paused, “As a matter of fact, she does. So, is there anything you'd like to know before we start the shadowing bit?”  
“Yeah,” she said, “Why do doctors wear white coats?”  
He frowned at her in reply.  
“They never tell you that stuff at uni. I mean, seems a bit stupid, doesn't it? You cut someone open, blood gets everywhere, you bandage a guy, blood gets everywhere. White seems like a stupid choice, doesn't it? Wouldn't black be a bit more appropriate?”  
“I, uhm,” he stammered, unsure of what to say next, “I've never thought about that. I suppose you get a fresh coat when there's blood on it.”  
“Good point,” she shrugged, “Still a bit of a waste though.”  
John inhaled sharply, thinking that he probably had a very tiring week ahead of him when suddenly there was a knock on the door and when it opened, his heart seemed to skip a beat at the sight of Clara's face. He opened his mouth to say hello, but then realized what he had failed to notice the last time. The clothes, the posture. Not Clara.  
“It's Bonnie,” she said immediately, “Don't get excited.”  
“I, uhm, I know,” John spluttered, “I noticed.”  
Then he turned towards Bill and he didn't fail to notice that she was making heart eyes at Bonnie, gawking at the woman who resembled his wife so very much. If it had been Clara, John would have probably told her to stop staring. “Bill, could you give us some privacy?”  
“I, uh,” she paused, “I'm supposed to be shadowing you all week.”  
“Yes, except that this is a private conversation, so please,” he gestured towards the door and finally Bill budged and started moving across the room.  
He saw that she still smiled at Bonnie while she passed her. “Hi,” Bill uttered nervous.  
“Hey,” Bonnie smiled back.  
Then finally the door closed from the outside.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Bonnie said instantly, still smiling, “Who's the girl?”  
“Oh, that's Bill,” he explained, “Med school student.”  
She grinned. “Future doctor. Nice.”  
“What brings you here?” John demanded to know, “I don't suppose you've had the habit of visiting me at work before my accident.”  
“Not really, no,” she replied.  
Then she opened her bag and retrieved a small box from inside of it before placing it neatly on his desk.  
“What is that?”  
Bonnie inhaled sharply. “That's all the things I have of our mother, some old photographs, her ring, that kind of stuff,” she said and suddenly John noticed the sadness in her eyes and her voice, “I took them when I ran away from home as a reminder.”  
John frowned at her. “And you want me to. . .?”  
“Give them to Clara,” she told him, looking straight at him, “Tell her to take it as a sign of good will. She should have them.”  
“Clara and I,” he hesitated, “We're not speaking right now. But if we do, I'll give her the box.”  
“Is it because of the kiss?” Bonnie wanted to know and the idea seemed to shock her.  
“No, not because of that.”  
“Good,” she concluded, “I'm sure you'll patch things up. I mean, I don't know Clara so well, but she'd be stupid not to. You're like the only decent guy I've ever met.”  
John chuckled. “You're not so fond of men, are you?”  
“God, no,” Bonnie laughed, “A guy made me run away from home. A guy landed me in prison. I'm done with that.”  
“Seems like a wise choice then,” he smiled, “Could you do me a favour?”  
“Sure, what do you need?”  
“When you leave, tell Bill to come back in, okay?”  
Bonnie grinned at him in reply. “I can most certainly do that. She'll be here all week, yeah?”  
He nodded.  
“I'll best be in my way then,” she said, “See you around, John.”  
“Take care.”

It took several minutes and John kept a close eye on the clock, but eventually Bill walked back into his office and she was grinning from ear to ear.  
“She gave me her phone number,” she announced happily.  
John smiled at her in reply and couldn't help but think once more that the following week would be very, very tiring, but at least Bill was nice and brightening up her day had brightened his by extend, if only just a little.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments!!! Yes, you're excited about Bill. But how will Clara react to her?

She had waited a week and a half and her pain and anger were slowly fading away. Clara had hoped that John would man up and call her, but since he hadn't and she was growing tired of waiting, Clara decided to make the next step or otherwise they would still be avoiding each other in a month. Her English class ended just in time to catch John for his lunch break, so Clara hurried back home – only instead of going home, she headed towards his practice and she was feeling a little nervous as she did. What would she find? Would John be happy to see her? Would it be awkward? Had he missed her as well? He must have, according to Missy, and she had missed him, too. In fact, she was still missing him terribly and the thought of having lunch with him both warmed her heart and scared the hell out of her. What if he pushed her away again? What if she was in for another disappointment?  
When she stepped inside the practice, she found it empty – apart from Nardole, who was munching his sandwich at his desk. John would have a fit if he was here and saw it, so he had probably gone out to have lunch.  
“Hey Nardole,” Clara greeted him, trying to sound cheerful, “Can you tell me where John is?”  
“Hi Clara,” he replied with his mouth full. Then he swallowed. “John is having lunch.”  
She raised her eyebrows at him. “I kind of figured that. Can you tell me where he went?”  
Nardole pulled a face and shook his head. “Sorry, no. He and Bill just went out to have lunch. That's all I know, but my bet is on a restaurant.”  
“Bill?” Clara asked, puzzled, “Who's Bill?”  
“She's a nuisance.”  
“ _She?!_ ”  
“Yeah, but apparently she's nice and John loves that she follows him around like a dog,” he rolled his eyes. It was more than obvious that he didn't like Bill, whoever she was, and right at this moment Clara didn't like her either. There was a woman in her husband's life that she didn't know about – of course she didn't like her.  
“Who is she, exactly?”  
“Ah, just some med school student shadowing him this week,” Nardole made a dismissive gesture, “But John has already suggested that she can come back any time she has questions or needs help with her classes. Madness, if you ask me. I don't like that he's so friendly with her.”  
Just like that Clara's heart sank into her boots and for a moment she thought she could feel John slip away from her. They hadn't been in contact for over a week when their relationship was already fragile and now he seemed to have found someone he liked. It was unusual for John to hit it off with someone so quickly and he wouldn't just take a strange woman out to lunch if he didn't like her. Clara felt a little sick. What if it was already too late for them? What if he fell in love with someone else before his memories returned? What if that had already happened? Clara had taken into account that she might find a new disappointment while coming here, but that was something she would never have expected and it was so much worse than she had feared.

* * *

“No, it's definitely you who should call,” Bill said and took a large bite off her pizza before she continued mumbling, “Definitely you.”  
“What if she's not ready? She was still crying when I left,” John argued, “What if she hates me now?”  
“Okay, Doctor,-”  
“Doctor?” John raised his eyebrows, “So I'm the drug dealer now?”  
“Better than murderer,” she replied, still chewing, “Anyway, you're an idiot. You don't leave a girl when she's crying – basic dating rule number one. So, yeah, you should definitely call because she won't.”  
“Why not?” he demanded to know, not understanding why Clara couldn't just call him when she felt ready.  
“Okay, she might cause you're married and she loves you. But you told her, you specifically told her that you wanted the dating experience and she's probably very confused and very hurt because to her that has already happened years ago.”  
“Yeah, well, I'm confused, too,” he mumbled and looked down at his plate. He hadn't even touched his food yet.  
“I'm not doubting that,” Bill told him, “But you wanna be with her, so you gotta make a move because right now she's probably not sure about what you want. Really, men are so complicated.”  
“Oh? _Men_ are complicated?”  
“Yeah,” she argued, “They leave you wondering about whether they like you or not. With women it's easy. You tell them you like them and in most cases you'll get a fairly straight reply.”  
“Or a fairly gay one in your case,” he chuckled.  
Bill laughed at his reply. “I'm so glad I followed that girl into your practice. You're a really cool guy and an awesome tutor.”  
“Right back at you,” he sighed.  
“So you'll call your wife?”  
“Yes, yes, I'll call my wife,” John rolled his eyes, “Now, about the shadowing and tutoring, how are the preparations for your exam going?”  
“Uhm,” she bit down on her lip, granting him a sheepish smile.  
“Hey, don't tell me I've quizzed you about all those bones yesterday for nothing.”  
“I had a date yesterday,” she mumbled, “Didn't really get around to cramming.”  
“A date?”  
Then a smile spread all across her face. “Bonnie,” she explained.  
“Ah,” John sighed. Well, that was just one more item on the list of things he would have to break to Clara.

When John got home after a long, exhausting day he checked his phone, hoping that Clara might have called him in the meantime, but he found no missed calls whatsoever. Missy didn't seem to be at home either, so John went straight into his room, clutching his phone in his hand. He couldn't chicken out. Not now. Bill would give him an endless lecture tomorrow if he did. And he was still missing Clara. In fact, it seemed to get worse every day they didn't talk. Two and a half weeks. It was definitely time.  
John unlocked his phone and dialled her number, listening to the ringing of the phone until finally she picked up.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the comments! Uh-oh, how can those two find back together? Let's find out!

With his fingers John drummed a nervous rhythm on the café table, waiting for Clara to show up. It might still take her a while because he had come here early and was now on his third cup of coffee already – which didn't really help with the nervousness at all. How would she react? Would she be mad? Happy? Wary? John couldn't wait to find out.  
He wasn't quite sure why he had chosen the little café next to Kensington Palace, but it was cute and he had always liked it, so he was certain that Clara would like it, too.  
Then finally John spotted her familiar face as she turned around the corner and even now that he saw her John couldn't say what kind of mood she was in. She looked insecure, maybe even sad and all of a sudden he felt worried. Would she even forgive him for moving out at all?  
John rose from his seat immediately and Clara came to a halt right in front of him. All of a sudden he felt a little lost for words when she looked at him, so John did the only thing he could think of: he bent down and placed a soft kiss close to her lips. It was a simple gesture, a sweet one, and to his relief he earned a smile for it.  
“Hello Clara,” he greeted her, “I'm so glad you came.”  
“I'm glad you called,” she replied.  
John moved to hold the chair for her and Clara sat down while he wasn't quite sure what do to. Then it suddenly dawned on him again.  
“I'll get us some cake, alright? And a coffee? Or tea? Or both? What would you like?” he stammered nervously.  
Then, to his surprise, Clara chuckled. “You are certainly not having coffee. But tea and cake sounds nice.”  
“Be right back,” he beamed at her and vanished into the café.

John picked the most delicious looking cake for them both and two cups of Clara's favourite tea before he headed back outside. Clara was still sitting exactly where he had left her and John's heart started racing the closer he came to their table. What would she say to him? Would she forgive him? He needed to know because he had missed her so terribly much.  
“So, uhm,” he began, “How have you been?”  
Clara sighed and lowered her gaze to her cake. She didn't seem all too eager to eat it. “Not so well, I'm afraid. But I get it. I get why you did it. Doesn't mean I like it, but I think I understand.”  
“I'm sorry,” he replied sincerely, “I haven't been so well either. I've missed you. A lot.”  
Clara's head shot up and she wore a strange frown on her face when she looked at him. “You found a distraction though,” she said in a tone that sounded quite harsh.  
John raised his eyebrows. “A distraction?”  
“Apparently she's called Bill and you love that she follows you around like a puppy,” Clara snapped at him and quickly lowered her gaze again.  
He needed a moment to understand what Clara was getting at or how she even knew about Bill in the first place, but slowly it began to dawn on him.  
“Bill is a med school student who is shadowing me this week,” he explained, “I helped her out with some questions she had.”  
“I bet you did,” she mumbled, “And you took her to lunch.”  
“Hang on, you're not mad that I went to lunch with her, are you?” John asked in disbelief, “Bill is a nice kid and she's smart.”  
Clara looked back up, glaring at him. “Yes, I am mad!” she hissed, “I'm mad that you left. I'm mad that you didn't call immediately and I'm mad that you're taking other women out to lunch!”  
“I have lunch with Missy all the time,” John argued.  
“That's different. That's Missy, not some random woman you've only just met that probably fancies you.”  
The moment John realized that Clara was jealous of Bill he couldn't hold it back any longer, he simply started to laugh.  
“What's so funny about that?” Clara demanded angrily.  
“Everything,” he chuckled, “Clara, Bill would flirt with a plant before she'd flirt with me. Actually, I think she fancies _you_. Had to place your photo so she couldn't see it because it kept distracting her.”  
“You kept the photo on your desk?” she asked, the surprise written all over her face. Apparently that was all it took to make her forget all about Bill.

John inhaled deeply and leaned forward, reaching out to take her hand across the desk. Oh, he had missed touching her. He had missed the feeling of her small hand in his own.  
“Of course I kept it,” he told her, all the while gently caressing the back of her hand, “I smile every time I look at it.”  
When Clara didn't reply, John raised his head and took a look around the place and suddenly it gave him an odd feeling, almost like a deja vu. He could have sworn that this had happened before, he could almost remember. No. He did remember.  
“We've been here,” he blurted out and his heart suddenly skipped a beat when he realized that he knew, that he actually recalled it. He turned to look at Clara. “Our first date.”  
Clara gasped and her face turned into a smile. “You remember that?” she asked him instantly.  
“Yes,” he confirmed, “Not all. Just this. Us, sitting here. I was so nervous that day and you, your hair was longer.”  
John didn't know what was happening when Clara suddenly rose from her seat and scooted over to sit right next to him, but then she cupped his face in both her hands and pulled him closer for a kiss. Yes, he had missed the kisses, too, but right now John wasn't even sure what to think first. He remembered their date. He remembered her, he wanted to focus on that, scared that the memory would slip his mind again if he didn't try his best to hold onto it. But he also wanted to focus on the kiss as well.  
Then Clara pulled away, beaming at him.  
“You remember,” she whispered happily.  
John smiled at her in reply. “I'm starting to.”

Then, to his surprise, Clara's face turned serious again.  
“What does that mean? For us?” she asked him, “Will you move back in?”  
John sighed and reached for her hand once more, squeezing it in his own. “Not right now,” he told her calmly, “I need to relive it, Clara, all of it. I think that's the only way this will work. But I want to spend time with you, lots of it. We could visit museums and cook together, go to the cinema. I want to do this properly because. . . because I think I'm in love with you.”  
When Clara smiled at him in reply John thought that his heart might burst with joy. He had truly married the most amazing woman in the entire world and he couldn't wait fall in love with her more and more with each passing day. And he didn't have a single doubt that that was exactly what was going to happen.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys soooooo much for the comments! Yes, ALL of you, but especially whiteasy with that insightful, well thought-out novel of a comment :D I know you asked about the consequences, but obviously I can't tell you about those yet. . . Let's see what John and Clara get up to next.

_John had woken up early, the strange house and bed rousing him from his sleep just shortly after eight even during their holiday while Clara was still sleeping peacefully right next to him, probably dreaming about something amazing, judging by the light smile on her lips. Right now he considered himself the luckiest man in the world because no one else had the privilege to wake up next to Clara Oswald._  
_Then, slowly, she opened her eyes and the smile on her face widened when she looked at him._  
_“Mornin',” she mumbled sleepily, starting to stretch._  
_John thought she looked adorable like this and utterly beautiful. He was so much in love with her that he almost couldn't believe it._  
_“I want to marry you,” he said sincerely. He had no idea where the words had come from. They had just come out of his mouth like that. And they were true, so true._  
_Clara stopped and lifted her head a little to get a better look at him. She seemed surprised. “Is that. . . is that a proposal?” she asked, baffled._  
_John smiled in reply. “If you want it to be.”_  
_It took her a moment to grasp the meaning of his words in her sleepy state, but after a while she smiled back at him. “Yes.”_  
_He frowned at her. “Is that the answer to the proposal or-”_  
_Clara giggled. “If you want it to be.”_

John woke with a start and for a moment he didn't know where he was or what was happening before he slowly fell back into reality. He wasn't in a cosy house in Scotland, he wasn't with Clara. He was in Missy's guest bedroom, alone, and he had dreamed about Clara.  
But it hadn't felt like a dream, had it? John wasn't entirely sure, but he certainly hoped that he was remembering it. If that was how his proposal had happened, he would need to ask her about it. John turned his head and checked the clock on his bedside table. It was almost time for his date with Clara.

* * *

John groaned when he sank down on the heavy looking bench in the iron work department of the Victoria and Albert museum and Clara took a seat next to him, glad not to have to rely on her feet for a moment. They were aching inside her shoes and she dearly regretted her choice of footwear once more. One of these days she would just dress sensibly.  
“This is a nice bench,” he said after a while, “I like this bench.”  
“It's a really nice bench,” she agreed, exhaling sharply. They had been walking through the museum for hours and she was fairly certain that they hadn't even covered half of it yet.  
“Nice metal work, too,” John went on, staring straight ahead. Clara could tell that he was exhausted and his leg was probably hurting as well after being on his feet for so long.  
“Are we gonna sit here and stare at an iron work fence until closing time?”  
“Would you mind?” he asked her and chuckled when he turned his head in her direction.  
She shrugged. “A little maybe. But I don't mind at all for the moment. Sitting is good. Sitting I approve of,” she agreed and scooted a little closer until their arms were touching. With a sigh Clara leaned her head against his shoulder. “Still a lovely idea, the V&A.”  
John closed his arm around her shoulder and pulled her a little closer. It was lovely, the way their meetings had been going lately, and she could feel that he was enjoying them, too. They were seeing each other, spending time together, but Clara assumed that he didn't feel pressured any longer. At least he didn't give off the impression.  
“Can I asked you something?” John asked curiously after a moment of silence and staring at a metal fence.  
“Sure,” she replied, “Anything.”  
Yet he hesitated a while before he spoke. “How did I. . . propose?”  
Clara smiled to herself at the mention of it. The memory of it alone caused her heart to skip a little beat. It had been so sweet and unusual, and it had come right from his heart then at that moment.  
“What makes you think _you_ proposed?” she chuckled, “Maybe I went down on one knee in a fancy restaurant.”  
John laughed in reply. “I'm not sure I would have allowed that.”  
Clara sighed happily. “I was kidding. You're right. You proposed in a really sweet way. We were on holiday then, a small house in the-”  
“Scottish Highlands,” John interrupted her.  
She lifted her head to look at him. “You remember?”  
John smiled at her in reply. “I wasn't sure if it was a memory or just a dream. I certainly wished it was real. The house seemed nice, too. We should go back there one day.”  
“That's a lovely idea,” she agreed and rested her head back against his shoulder. John was remembering at last or at least he was beginning to and the thought about that filled Clara with hope. He had moved out, yes, but now she was sure that eventually he would come back. And in the meantime she could just as well enjoy dating him for a second time. It was certainly just as lovely as it had been the first time around.

After they had finally moved from the bench John suggested to go to a restaurant and they had a delicious meal at their favourite Italian place before he proceeded to drive her home. It had been a truly wonderful date, but when they came to a halt in front of their house and John hesitated to say goodbye, Clara got the impression that there was something else he wanted to say to her, something that he had carried around all day, waiting to get it off his chest.  
“Okay, out with it,” Clara told him, “I know you, remember? I know the look on your face when you're about to tell me something but don't know how to.”  
With a sigh John reached behind him and retrieved a small box from the back seat of his car. Clara eyed it suspiciously, but she didn't even have an inkling what it could possibly hold.  
“You probably won't like what I'm about to tell you,” he said carefully.  
Clara frowned at him. “Tell me. Stalling won't make it better, so tell me. What's in the box?”  
He took a deep breath and Clara watched him clutch the box a little more tightly. “I met with Bonnie. To talk,” he began, but she instantly interrupted him.  
“Why?” Clara spat, “Why would you do that? I've told you about her.”  
“Because I wanted to know,” he argued, “I needed to know why she pretended to be you, why she's in London, why she wants to see you.”  
“John, you can't trust anything that comes out of this woman's mouth!” Clara almost shouted back. It was unbelievable that she was back and even more unbelievable that apparently she had already managed to wrap her husband around her little finger. The next time Clara saw Bonnie she wouldn't get away so easily.  
“She's trying, Clara,” John told her gently, “I don't know what kind of person she was before she went to prison and I don't doubt that she was horrible to you and your family, but whatever happened in the past, Bonnie has changed. Maybe you're right and she doesn't deserve your forgiveness, but at least she deserves that you'll listen to her. Just once. That's all Bonnie wants, Clara. Just to talk.”  
“Never,” Clara spat, “We've offered to talk to her when Mum died. We've offered to talk before she ran away, but she just. . . she left. She just left us alone.”  
With a sigh John finally handed over the box and Clara took it reluctantly. If it came from Bonnie, she didn't even want to know what was inside.  
“She gave me this when she came by to talk,” he explained, “She said you should have it.”  
“Well, since you're pals now, tell her I don't want it,” she said angrily and attempted to push the box back into John's hands, but he refused it. It seemed she had no other choice but to open it. “Fine.”

When Clara lifted the lid, she wasn't entirely sure what she had expected to find, but she knew what she hadn't expected – and it was exactly what was inside the box.  
“That's Mum's,” Clara gasped and drew out the small, golden ring. She admired it in her hand for a long moment under the light of the street lamp. It had been over a decade since she had last seen it and suddenly Clara felt like there was a lump in her throat. This tiny piece of jewellery had been so precious to her mother and Clara had always just assumed that it had gotten lost somehow. She would have never imagined that Bonnie had taken it or that she would ever see it again. After a few moments Clara slipped it onto her own finger. It was the perfect fit.  
Clara lowered her gaze to the box once more and found several more items that had belonged to her mother as well as some old photographs. Her head shot back up.  
“Why would Bonnie give this to me? Why now? Why not keep it?” she asked.  
John granted her a smile. “I think it's her way of saying sorry,” he explained and reached out to hold her hand, “Please, just talk to her. Just once. If you still hate her, you can go your separate ways, but at least give her a chance.”  
All of a sudden Clara started to grown and John instantly stared at her in confusion. “You're a terrible husband, you know that? You should be on my side, not trying to make me do the right thing,” she growled, “Thank you.”  
She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips while John closed his arms around her in response. Even though he had lost his memory, he was still the same man she had met all those years ago and his heart was just as big and despite not even remembering all about her, Clara knew that she still held a large place inside of it.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I see you've asked for certain things to happen and less angst. . . well, here's a certain thing before we get back to the angst ;) Thank you all so very much for the comments!!!

“Go away,” Clara told him in a playfully harsh voice as she put herself between John and the stove once again when he had tried to peer into the pot. It was no use at all. Clara wouldn't allow him anywhere near the food.  
“I'm just trying to help,” he argued and tried his very best not to laugh at the tiny woman standing in his way. If he wanted to he could simply lift her up and carry her out of the room, but somehow John doubted that Clara would like that very much.  
“Oh no, not today,” she replied, “It's your birthday and I won't allow you to lift a single finger.”  
John glowered at her in reply. “Is it because I'm old now that you think I can't lift a spoon?”  
“Precisely. Now go and sit in the living room. Relax. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”  
“That's really not fair, you know? I'm missing the past five years,” he growled, a deep frown appearing on his face, “Technically I'm only 54. I should be celebrating my 54th birthday, not my 59th.”  
Finally Clara's features changed and they took on a thoughtful expression as if she was considering his idea. “Actually, that's a great idea. If I get to turn 26 again in November and-” she broke off when she realized that John had only tried to distract her to have a chance at looking into the frying pan, “Hey, hey, hey, no peeking!”  
“I just wanted to look!”  
With a sigh Clara reached for the wine bottle and the two glasses on the kitchen table and handed them over to him. “Here's what you can do. Go into the living room and open the bottle. I'll be with you in a few minutes. Now shoo!” she said and started shoving him out of the kitchen.

When John realized that further protests would amount to nothing at all he retreated to the living room and sank down on the sofa, waiting patiently for Clara to finish cooking. He wasn't sure why she was making such a big deal out of his birthday because he couldn't imagine that they had done this in the past five years. He hadn't celebrated his birthday for ages, well, except by spending the evening with Missy. Maybe that had also changed during his marriage?  
With a defeated sigh he leaned forward and opened the bottle before pouring them both a glass of the white wine Clara had chosen for the occasion. Hopefully she hadn't gotten him a present. Although. . . would that really be so bad? Was making his birthday a special occasion so bad? Lots of married couples celebrated their birthdays. Maybe he should just accept and enjoy it?  
John took a sip from the wine and leaned back on the sofa, only now realizing how exhausted he was. It had been a stressful day at work and Bill had stopped by once more even though she wasn't technically shadowing him anymore and he had answered a lot of her questions about her next exam. John liked that girl and he knew that one day she would make a good doctor, but her questions really were exhausting.

It really took her only a few minutes before Clara returned to the living room, carrying two plates that held a delicious looking risotto.  
“Just so you know,” Clara said with a smile, “I also expect a nice dinner on my birthday.”  
“Thank you,” John said sincerely as she handed him the plate, “And consider it done.”  
They ate in silence for a long moment and suddenly John didn't mind the extra attention at all anymore. In fact, he thought that it was perfect. A quiet evening, a wonderful meal and of course Clara's company. He was glad that they had finally found a middle ground, a way that worked for both of them because the last thing he wanted was to lose her.  
“I hope you don't mind that I haven't gotten you a physical present this year,” Clara said after a while, “I wasn't sure what to get you, so I figured I'd give you a promise instead.”  
John watched as she reached for an envelope and handed it to him. At first he frowned at her until Clara gestured for him to open it. When he did, he found only a photograph inside, one of himself and Clara in front of a small house in Scotland.  
“That was the house we had booked for our holiday, where you proposed,” Clara explained, “My present for you is the promise that we'll go back there. Whenever you want. Just say the word and I'll book it.”  
John smiled at her in reply. “That is a wonderful present,” he said and leaned forward to press a kiss to her lips, “I'll check my schedule after the weekend.”  
His response seemed to surprise her. “You wanna go that soon?”  
“Of course,” John replied, still smiling, “We should go while the weather is nice. It really is a wonderful idea.”  
The expression that appeared on Clara's face could only be described as smug. “Alright,” she agreed, “Sounds good to me.”  
Suddenly Clara lowered her gaze, a sort of mischievous look on her face, and John wasn't quite sure what to make of it. He had come to know her quite well in the past few months, but at times he still couldn't tell what was on her mind.  
“Is there anything else?”  
“No,” Clara said immediately, “No, it's nothing. Just a silly thought.”  
“What thought?” John enquired.  
She inhaled sharply before she spoke. “There's a thing I usually did for your birthday, but I'm sure you don't want that right now, so-”  
“What thing?” he frowned at her.

Finally Clara raised her head to look at him and she did so for a long moment as if she was considering something. Then, before John could react, Clara moved to climb on top of him like she had done several times before that and pushed him back against the backrest of the sofa. Clara bent forward and a few seconds later their lips locked in a long, sweet kiss. John could still taste the wine on her soft lips when he leaned in and opened his mouth to let her in while his arms closed around her back to keep her exactly where she was. He loved kissing her, loved how close they were, loved the warm, tingling sensation of arousal when she pressed herself against his crotch. One of these days, John thought, he would go further at last. He didn't really want to wait for much longer.  
When Clara broke the kiss to catch her breath she lowered her mouth to his ear and John could feel goosebumps ripple his skin when she spoke the words he had never expected to hear right now. 

Clara made a suggestion. She didn't demand anything. She didn't push him. It was an offer that he could accept or decline. It was tempting.

John swallowed hard when she looked at him again, a playful smile on her lips, and he found himself nodding in response. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the wine. Or maybe it was simply because of the beautiful woman on his lap that he didn't find the will to resist when she reached between them and palmed him through the fabric of his trousers. Her touch and the warmth of her hand instantly started to drain the blood from his brain to pump it downwards.  
“We don't have to,” Clara said in a low, reassuring voice, “Only if you feel like it.”  
John huffed, smiling as he did, while she continued to massage him through his trousers. “What do you think?”  
Clara giggled in response, an impish look on her face. “I think you feel like it.”  
He reached out, cupping her face in his hands, and pulled her back towards him. Their lips clashed in another, sloppier kiss.  
“I feel like it,” he half groaned when her hips started rubbing against his crotch, his trousers beginning to strain around his erection.  
Then, suddenly, Clara broke the kiss and climbed off his lap to slide downwards until she came to rest on her knees right between his legs. The sight of her was enticing and frightening at the same time and John felt glad that Clara had decided to go ahead and open his belt because his own hands were suddenly trembling. John knew that he had slept with Clara countless times during the last five years, that they had been almost inseparable if the others were to be believed, but as far as he remembered it had been ages since a woman had touched him like this. And to him that seemed like a very good reason to be scared.  
“Relax,” Clara said gently when she pulled his trousers down a little. She smiled up at him. “I already know what you like, remember?”  
Before John could say anything, Clara carefully wrapped her hand around him and placed a kiss on the tip. The feeling of her hand and lips on him instantly sent a surge of excitement through his entire body, but she didn't leave him any time to get used to the idea when her lips wrapped around his cock and slowly sucked him into her mouth.  
John hissed sharply when he was surrounded by all that heat and wetness and his hands instantly wandered back to Clara. He needed to touch her, needed some kind of contact other than the very obvious sensation of her lips around him.  
He was soon beginning to grow harder in her mouth as her lips started to run up and down his shaft, her hands wrapped tightly around the base the entire time. If John hadn't been sure that they had done this before, he was damn sure now because Clara knew him, she knew every inch of his skin, every spot she needed to touch that brought him closer. John leaned back against the sofa and took a sharp intake of breath.  
“You're amazing,” he panted, his fingers digging into her hair, “This is-”  
He broke off when Clara tightened her lips around him, sucking him in until his tip hit the back of her throat, and he couldn't help but moan. Yes, she knew very well how to make him fall apart under her touch. John was completely at her mercy.  
Clara eased off the pressure and allowed him to guide her. John was careful at first, testing, not really sure how far he could go as he pushed inside her mouth, but he was hard to the point that he thought he might burst and soon the temptation was too strong to resist. The sounds Clara uttered when his thrusts sped up, those little moans were enough to reassure him. The thought of her enjoying this almost pushed him over the edge.  
“Clara,” he moaned her name hoarsely, his breath coming out ragged now. He was so close. Just a little more. A little faster.  
Then finally, as the sensation was beginning to overwhelm him, John could feel the tension build up inside of him. He attempted to warn Clara, to give her a chance to pull away, but the words got stuck in his throat and came out as a moan instead while he spilled himself inside of her mouth. Clara swallowed around him.

John sank back on the sofa until he was lying flat on his back and pulled his pants back up. For a moment he didn't want to move at all. He only just made space for Clara to lie next to him before he closed his eyes and focused on nothing but his own heartbeat and breathing. Slowly but surely he was beginning to come down.  
“Happy Birthday,” Clara chuckled next to him, her head leaned against his shoulder.  
John opened his eyes again and looked at her and that was when he knew for sure. He loved her.  
“Clara,” he said softly and pressed a kiss to her head before he lay back down, “You are the best thing that could have ever happened to me. I hope you know that.”  
She chuckled. “I know.”

When John woke up he noticed that everything was dark and that Clara was still pressed tightly against his chest on the confined space of the sofa, sleeping peacefully. They had fallen asleep just like that and for a moment he considered waking her so they could both go to bed, but it was sweet and not too uncomfortable, so John reached for the blanket to cover them both and simply closed his eyes again so he could go back to sleep, still holding Clara in his arms.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the sweet comments :) Okay, maybe we won't go back to the angst straight away. We could take a little fluff-detour instead :)

Clara looked around the old mansion and smiled to herself, feeling more than confident in the beautiful ball gown she had chosen for tonight. That was exactly why she had wanted to come here: dress up, mingle, enjoy the music, the food, the dancing – although she was still waiting for John to suggest the latter. He hadn't wanted to come here before his accident, claiming that he wasn't very fond of the people that would be present, claiming that it was a boring event, but they were here now. He had bought the tickets for them. They might as well make the very best of it.  
“Are you gonna ask or shall I just drag you away?” Clara enquired, giggling when she spotted him sniffing the food in suspicion.  
His head shot up. “Drag me where?”  
“To the dancefloor, of course.”  
His expression turned from suspicion to fright. “I don't suppose I've learned how to dance in the past five years?”  
Clara smiled at him in reply. “Only if you did it in secret.”  
Their conversation was suddenly interrupted when a man pushed himself into Clara's field of vision and reached for John's hand to shake without even waiting for his response.  
“John Smith!” the man laughed, “I didn't expect to see you at one of these events again!”  
“Yes,” he replied reluctantly and John seemed glad when he was finally able to pull his hand away, “It's been a while. I've been quite busy.”  
“I suppose it was tough coming here without your wife,” the man went on, “But I see you've brought your daughter. That's lovely.”  
Clara opened her mouth to protest, but luckily for her John was much quicker than that and immediately jumped to her defence.  
“Henry, that is Clara,” he said, “My wife. Clara, that's Henry Johnson. We went to university together.”  
“Kind of figured that,” she remarked drily.  
The look on Henry's face was something between awe and abhorrence while he stared at Clara, probably trying to determine exactly how old, or better how much younger she was. Then John suddenly reached for her arm.  
“Excuse us, Henry, but Clara and I were about to dance,” he said sharply and immediately started to pull Clara away.

“I'm sorry about him,” John said once they were out of earshot, “And sorry about everyone else for that matter.”  
They came to a halt on the dancefloor just as a new song started and John laid his hand on her waist and tried his best to move to the rhythm, almost stepping on Clara's feet in the process.  
“So you stopped coming here after your first wife died?” Clara asked curiously, “You never told me that.”  
“No, I stopped coming here because they're all knobs,” he growled.  
“Ah, forget about them. Focus on this,” she told him happily, smiling up at him, “Good food. Good music. And the fact that Henry is still staring at me, probably wishing that his wife was just as young and pretty.”  
“What?!”  
Clara giggled when John's head shot around, trying to find his former classmate in the crowd. “I'll punch him in the face if he keeps looking,” he muttered angrily.  
“Focus,” Clara reminded him, making him turn back towards her. “Pretty wife here, remember?”  
His features lit up when he looked at her and a smile spread all over his face when he pulled Clara a little closer to his own body. “Well, I suppose I can't blame him. You really are the most beautiful woman here by far,” John said.  
She wrinkled her nose. “That's not much of a compliment. Not with that kind of competition.”  
“Okay, most beautiful woman on earth. That better?”  
“Depends on how many gorgeous Martians you know,” she replied, chuckling.  
“Oh, many,” John laughed, causing Clara to laugh with him.  
“You're an idiot,” Clara giggled, “I love you.”  
John stopped his movements and his hands instantly wandered from her waist to cup her face as he bent down to kiss her. For some reason Clara suddenly felt butterflies in her stomach and she had no idea where they had come from. They had known each other for over five years. She shouldn't still get butterflies.  
“I have an idea,” John whispered when their lips parted, “Come with me.”

Clara didn't protest as John dragged her away from the dancefloor because she was more than curious what he was up to and a few moments later she found herself standing next to the buffet again. He told her to grab a few snacks while he looked around to see if anyone was watching them. When he seemed sure that no one was paying attention John reached for a bottle of champagne and swiftly hid it beneath his jacket before he nodded towards the door.  
She found herself outside in the garden surrounding the mansion a few minutes later and realized that the air was still warm even though the sky was clear and the stars were visible out here in the countryside. It was a wonderful summer night.  
“Let's take a walk, shall we? There's a lake here somewhere,” John explained with a smile and Clara was only too eager to follow even though her knees still felt a little wobbly after the kiss he had given her on the dancefloor.  
“It's beautiful out here,” she remarked, looking around.  
“Much better than inside, don't you think? Okay, this way,” he said and a few moments later they both came to a halt on a little wooden bridge leading onto the lake.  
Clara imagined that some people must use this for fishing when she sat down and after taking off her shoes she carefully lowered her feet until she could feel water. It was cool but not cold after the sun had been shining on it all day. Everything about this was perfectly lovely, even better than being inside the ballroom and certainly a lot more romantic. She was glad to see that John hadn't lost his sense of romance.  
“Definitely better than insi- _uhh!_ ” Clara flinched when the pop of the champagne bottle startled her. John handed her the drink moments later and Clara took a large sip from out of the bottle before she inhaled deeply and started to take in her surroundings.  
Warm summer night. Stars. Faint music from the mansion. Chirping crickets. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.  
“I love this,” she admitted with a sigh while she leaned against John's shoulder.  
“Me too,” he replied and had a sip from the champagne as well. “Not a big fan of crowds. Especially not the one in there. I. . . I'd rather spend the evening with just you.”  
“Stop it,” Clara giggled.  
“Stop what?”  
Clara turned to look at him, grinning. “You're doing it again,” she said, “You're making me fall in love with you again when it's supposed to go the other way around.”  
John frowned her at her in reply. “What makes you think I'm not falling in love with you?”  
“Are you?” she asked earnestly.  
“God, yes,” John breathed before he leaned forward and pressed his lips on her own. When Clara opened her mouth to him and felt his tongue upon her own, careful at first, then a little more insistent, a little more eager, Clara's heart skipped a beat. Maybe, just maybe they were finally moving in the right direction.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so very much for the comments!!! Enjoy this chapter :) (while it lasts muhahahaha)

John was beginning to feel a little cold without his jacket that he had given to Clara over an hour ago. He had tried to ignore it, but the cold and the exhaustion were finally catching up with him as well and yet he hated that this wonderful night was about to come to an end. Yet there was no stopping it, not when he could already see the blueish hues of dawn spread across the lake and the birds had started to sing half an hour ago. They had finished the champagne and the snacks they had nicked from the buffet and had been sitting there in silence for at least as long as the birds had been singing. The music from the mansion had also stopped. It was time to go home.  
“Clara,” John whispered softly and looked down at Clara, who was propped up against him, her eyes closed.  
“Mhhh,” she murmured sleepily.  
“Let's call a taxi and go home,” he suggested in a low voice. It was almost too perfect to leave, but they couldn't sleep out here. They would most certainly catch a cold or worse.  
“Mhhh,” Clara uttered again and tightened her grip around his chest. She was half asleep already and it was up to John to gather up the energy to actually move and go home. But he was exhausted, too.  
“Come on,” he finally said and sat up, holding Clara's head with both his hands. John smiled at her. “Let's go home where there's a soft, warm bed waiting for you. A blanket. A pillow. How does that sound?”  
“Like heaven,” she mumbled and eventually cracked a smile.  
Clara allowed him to drag her to her feet, but as soon as they were standing she wrapped her arms back around his chest. With a sigh John yielded to the embrace and he had to admit that he loved it. He simply loved holding her like this, but he was also tired and really, really wanted to go home. 

John called a taxi before they started making their way back to the house where he watched the last guests leave the party. He also spotted his former classmate Henry, obviously drunk, and his wife basically dragged him towards the car. Somehow it made John appreciate Clara all the more and he was also fairly certain that she wouldn't ask him to come here again.  
“Hey, where did you come from?” Henry slurred when he noticed John and Clara pass their taxi.  
“Let's go, Henry,” his wife told him calmly, obvious scared her husband was going to make a fool of himself – and probably rightly so. Henry had always had a talent for that when he had been drinking.  
“Have you been shagging your wife in the woods?” he drawled, gawking at the mental image and John noticed once more how Henry was checking Clara out and this time it was fairly obvious. Once again John felt like reminding him not to stare – preferably with his fist.  
“Henry!” his wife scolded him.  
While John was still too busy thinking about a way to make him stop looking at Clara, she began to speak.  
“You bet he did,” Clara replied and dragged John away before he could say anything else.  
“Again,” John said, “Sorry about him. I wanna go back and punch that guy.”  
He growled when he looked back towards the taxi that was leaving, but then Clara's arms tore him out of his train of thoughts as they folded around his back.  
“No punching,” she mumbled, “You need to hold me up while I sleep.”  
“Yes,” he replied, smiling, before he bent down and left a soft kiss on Clara's head. “I'm sure our taxi will be here any moment.”

As is turned out, John was right about that and a few minutes later a cab pulled up next to them and John swiftly ushered Clara inside where she promptly leaned against his shoulder once more. He gave the driver their address and sank deeper into his seat, glad that it was comfortable and warm inside the taxi because Clara had decided to use his jacket as a blanket and his chest as a pillow. John gently placed his arm around her and leaned back when he made the decision that he would stay at their house tonight. They had done that before even after he had moved out, more or less accidentally on a few occasions. The night they had fallen asleep on the sofa, another time when he had had a little too much wine to drive back and had been too tired to call a taxi, another time when they had stayed up quite late to finish a movie. John liked spending the nights at their house, liked that he still had the choice and he also liked that at some point he could go back to Missy's place and miss not being with Clara. Soon she would ask him to move back in, he knew it, but John hoped that it would still be a while because right now he was loving it just the way it was. There was no pressure, there was just happiness and the feeling of falling in love with her until he had arrived at the point where he would want nothing more than to move back in on his own accord.

The taxi came to a halt in front of their house an hour later when the sun was already shining through the gaps between the houses and his bones felt heavy when John moved to wake Clara.  
“We're here,” he whispered and gently shook her awake.  
“Where to next?” the taxi driver asked him and turned around, staring at John.  
“Nowhere. We've arrived,” John replied.  
He watched the taxi driver glance towards Clara and eventually back to him.  
“She's my wife,” John almost spat at him, “Before you think anything indecent.”  
Finally Clara had scrambled into a proper sitting position and she gave a hearty yawn. “Yeah, and I need you to drag me inside cause my feet aren't obeying,” she added sleepily.  
“I can do better,” John said and pressed a swift kiss to Clara's forehead before he handed the money over to the taxi driver and climbed out of the car.  
He opened the door to Clara's side and prayed that his back wouldn't fail him when he bent down and picked Clara up from her seat. She was definitely heavier than she looked and his leg was aching under the additional weight, but John still managed to carry her back to the front door.  
Climbing up to the bedroom took them both a very long time and John felt relieved when he finally closed the door behind him. There it was, the huge, comfortable bed, just a few steps away. It looked like paradise to him right now.  
“Help,” Clara mumbled and turned her back towards him, pointing at the zip she obviously couldn't reach with her arms.  
He stepped forward and slowly unzipped her dress. There was something magical about peeling her out of her gown and for a brief moment he considered bending down to kiss her neck. The thought about it brought a smile to his face and also made his member twitch a little inside his pants. Yet John knew all too well that he would fall asleep before he had even reached her shoulder blades with his kisses. No, that was something for another time.  
While Clara peeled herself out of her dress John swiftly kicked off his shoes and trousers and threw his shirt on top of the pile before he lifted the duvet and climbed into bed next to Clara. He just wanted to sleep for a very, very long time.  
“Good night,” she sighed sleepily.  
John rolled on his side and placed his arm around Clara's waist, pulling her closer until their bodies were pressed together. Yes, that was exactly how he wanted to fall asleep.  
“Good night, darling.”


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments. . . . maybe we can have a tiny bit more love between them. . . before we get back to the inevitable angst :)

When John woke up the sun had already moved around and was shining right in their bedroom window, telling him that it was close to noon and yet he didn't have the slightest intention of getting out of bed, not when everything was so perfect. The bed was warm and soft and Clara was still sleeping in his arms, her back pressed tightly against his chest. John thought he couldn't get any better than this.  
Clara uttered a soft sound, betraying how content she was, and when she moved John became increasingly aware of his erection that was rubbing against her arse. He had woken up like this after going to sleep with the thought of how perfect she looked in her light chemise and how badly he wanted to go a step further in their relationship. Ever since that evening on the sofa John had wanted it and he had waited for the perfect moment. Could this be it?  
John lowered his head to her neck and started covering her skin with careful kisses. The smell of her was intoxicating and for some reason it reminded him of home. It was his brain, remembering, knowing that they belonged together and it was the best feeling in the world and it was also strange. John remembered waking up in the hospital not too long ago, staring into her strange, pretty face, unable to believe that Clara was truly his wife. Yet he also remembered bits of the time before the accident, their first date, the proposal, the feeling of his heart flowing over with love for her. They were competing in his head, but John knew which side would win in the end. He had loved her once and there was no way of getting over how it had felt once he had started to remember.  
“John,” Clara chuckled softly, her voice still heavy with sleep. Oh, he'd wake her up in no time. “What are you doing?”  
“What do you think?” John asked back and buried his head deeper into the crook of her neck, sucking her delicate skin a little harder and causing Clara to utter a soft moan. The sound of it shot straight through his body, making him twitch his excitement. John wanted her so much and he couldn't believe how on earth they had waited so long.  
“I want to make love to you,” he whispered right into her ear before he gently nipped at her lobe, “Please. I want to be with you.”  
“Yes,” Clara breathed in reply and John decided that he didn't want to waste another second.  
His hand wandered down across her stomach until he felt the silk of her knickers and he started tracing the outline of her sex with his finger through the fabric while his lips were still busy kissing her neck.  
“Tell me how,” he mumbled against her skin while his erection was still rubbing against her arse. It felt so delicious, so tempting, so frustrating to slowly work himself into the frenzy of arousal. “Show me how you like it.”  
Clara instantly reached for his hand and led him past the waistband of her knickers to where she felt already damp and she gasped when John slid a finger between her folds.  
“Like this?” he asked.  
“Mh-mh,” she uttered and John moved his hand, slowly digging his finger inside of her, “Yes.”  
The hissing sound, along with the feeling of her tight heat around his finger immediately made his cock twitch in anticipation while John was beginning to imagine how good she must feel around his member. Just the thought of it was causing his blood to rush south, making him hard to the point that he was starting to ache.  
Clara moved against his hand as he pushed inside her, adding another finger while her breath was coming out ragged and John could tell that she close.  
“You're so beautiful, darling,” he whispered into her ear before he brought his lips to her neck again, this time sucking so hard that he was sure to leave a mark. He loved her and he wanted her.  
“Say it again,” Clara panted heavily.  
John chuckled against her skin. “You're beautiful.”  
“No,” she keened in protest, her hips thrusting up eagerly, “The other thing.”  
“Darling,” he breathed. He wanted so much to be inside her. “I want you.”  
Clara drew in a sharp breath, moaning as her muscles started to tighten around his fingers in her moment of climax and her juices came flowing all over his hand. She was still panting when he withdrew his fingers and she turned around in bed before locking their lips in a long, passionate kiss. John half moaned into her mouth, his need for her almost growing to much to bear. They both moved quickly to get rid of any unnecessary clothing and John climbed on top of her but stopped when he looked at Clara. To him she had never looked more beautiful than she did right now.  
“Are you okay?” he found himself asking, “With this?”  
She smiled at him in response and suddenly reached for his face and pulled him down for another, shorter kiss.  
“More than okay,” Clara breathed in reply, staring happily at him, “I love you and I always want you. But it's sweet that you ask.”  
John smiled back at her. “My Clara,” he whispered.  
“Okay,” she giggled, “Less talking, more. . . doing.”

John positioned himself at her entrance, his cock tingling with excitement the closer he came to the heat her body was radiating and finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he carefully moved inside her. He closed his eyes when the feeling of her around him seemed to occupy all his sense. How tight she was around him, how hot and wet, their bodies pressed together so closely. John thought he would never want to feel anything else.  
Clara hooked her leg around his arse, guiding his rhythm as he was slowly beginning to pick up pace, driving inside her and every time it felt just a little sweeter. She countered his movements perfectly, allowing him in deeper with every single thrust and the sound of her moans shot through his body.  
“Mhhhh, you're perfect,” he hummed, followed by a deep groan that he couldn't stop coming from the back of his throat.  
It felt too good to be true, all of it, and John knew he was slowly working himself to the point of no return when their movements sped up and Clara purposefully tightened her muscles around him, causing him to moan out loud. She held on to him the entire time, her nails digging deep into the skin of his back, the pain of it only adding to his arousal.  
“Clara,” he panted breathlessly and bent down to leave a sloppy kiss on her lips. He couldn't take it for much longer, the sensation was too much. John wanted her to take the reigns, wanted to surrender to her. “On top. Now.”  
She understood instantly and they both rolled over in bed until he was lying flat on his back and Clara climbed on top of him, immediately lowering herself back down on top of him while he let out a deep, carnal moan. She could do anything with him right now as long as she didn't stop.  
Clara continued their rhythm, moaning loudly as she did, and John reached out until his hands landed on her hips, guiding her as she rode him and his head sank deeper into the pillow. Not much longer and he would come, John knew it. It was too much, too fast, too tight, all of that sending his senses into overload and then he could feel her muscles pulse around him for a second time while she whimpered his name.  
“Clara, I-”  
His confession of love got stuck in his throat when his orgasm suddenly ripped through him, spreading from the centre of his arousal into every cell of his body and his mind just went blank. There was nothing there but bliss while he came and emptied himself inside of her.

They both lay in silence for a long moment and John thought he had never been as happy as he felt right now. Could it really be that he had been so lucky as to find a woman like Clara? She loved him, she had waited for him and he couldn't help but love her in return.  
“This was definitely worth the wait,” she chuckled after a while.  
“Oh, absolutely,” he said and turned around to look at her. She looked happy as well. He was making her making. “But let's not wait that long for the second time.”  
“Definitely not,” Clara agreed with a smile, but then her featured turned a little more serious again.  
“I know what you're about to ask,” John cut her off before she even had a chance to speak, “And the answer is soon. But I don't wanna move back in right now. I love this, I love what we have. I don't want to rush it because I'm scared it might go to ruin again.”  
“It's not gonna go to ruin,” she argued.  
“Clara,” John began softly and reached out to take her hand, “If you tell me that you absolutely can't stand the thought of me staying at Missy's for another day, I will move back in this instant. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. But if you still have the patience to wait for a while longer, please, let me have that. Please.”  
Clara nodded softly and John bent forward to place a long, gentle kiss on her forehead. Eventually he would move back in with her, there was no doubt about it, but he was also selfish and he loved his current life too much to give it up immediately. Falling in love with Clara was the best thing that could have happened to him and he wanted to enjoy very second of it.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments!!! What will happen? The only thing that can happen with two idiots that never talk . . .

“Can we go over it again, please?” John almost begged her while they were crossing the road to Amy's and Rory's house and Clara wasn't entirely sure whether to laugh or groan. He was utterly nervous about a simple party when he had absolutely no reason to be. The people who knew them also knew about what had happened to John and everyone else wasn't a problem.  
“Okay, Amy and Rory, our friends. It's Amy's 35th birthday party and you'll recognize her red hair. You've seen her before. Rory is her husband, kind of dorky-looking with a nose. Their daughter Melody is six and she loves you, calls you uncle Johnny. I'll tell you who the rest is when we get there and now stop being nervous,” Clara told him, “It'll be fine.”  
Before John had another chance to distract her she rang the door bell. She heard John inhale deeply next to her right before Amy opened the door.  
“Happy Birthday!” Clara greeted her immediately and threw her arms around her best friend in a tight embrace.  
“Ugh, don't remind me that I'm getting older,” her friend said in a playfully insulted manner.  
“Question,” Clara looked at her, “Why are you throwing a birthday party then?”  
A broad smile appeared on Amy's face. “I said to Rory I'd have a party under one condition and you will find that in the garden. Come on!”  
John cleared his throat as he stepped through the door and awkwardly handed Amy the their present. “Uhm, happy birthday.”  
“Thank you,” Amy replied happily and waved them inside.  
They walked all the way through the house and into the back garden when Clara finally spotted what must surely be the one condition Amy had told her about because once she looked past the table and barbecue she noticed a large, colourful bouncy castle at the very end of the garden.  
“How many children are you expecting today?” John enquired curiously, “That's a very big bouncy castle for just Melody.”  
“Only grown up children,” Amy giggled, “That was my present from Rory.”

“Uncle Johnny! Uncle Johnny!”  
The girl came running across the lawn as soon as she had spotted them and instantly threw her small arms around John in a tight hug. He was surprised, but he was trying his very best not to let it show.  
“Oh, uh, hello. . . Melody,” he replied reluctantly as if he wasn't sure he was actually saying hello to the right girl.  
“I've got some new dolls!” she told him excitedly, “You can do your funny voice on them!”  
“Uh, sure,” John replied, the insecurity showing in his voice, “Why don't you, uhm, go ahead and I'll join you in a second?”  
With a large grin on her face Melody darted off across the lawn and John instantly turned towards Clara. “What exactly is my funny voice?” he asked her.  
“Oh, uhm, I think it was just a really deep, gravelly one. I'm not really sure,” she replied hesitantly, “Why don't you distract her with the bouncy castle instead?”  
With a sigh John nodded and went to follow Melody across the lawn. Clara watched from the side as he pulled a yo-yo out of his jacket pocket and started to show the girl how to play with it.  
“Does John usually carry a yo-yo in his pocket?” Amy asked in confusion, a laugh on her lips.  
“Uhm, I have no idea,” Clara replied, “His jacket pockets are a mystery to me.”  
She smiled as she watched John trying to teach the child how to properly work the yo-yo and suddenly it somehow tugged at her heart. If it hadn't been for his accident, maybe they would already have their own child on the way by now. Yet fate seemed to have had other plans for them and for a short moment it made her sad.  
“So, you two are good?” Amy asked next to her and Clara was about to answer when the doorbell rang once more and her friend had to hurry to open it.

Clara walked around the garden for a while, making small talk with some of the guests and saying hello to a few old friends that she hadn't really talked to in a long while. It was beginning to grow a little colder and some people were already moving inside. Clara was starting to consider the same when suddenly a hand reached for her arm and pulled her aside.  
“Come on,” John half whispered and nodded in the direction of the bouncy castle, “It's free. No one's using it.”  
Clara giggled when she noticed his excited face. “Are you serious?”  
“Of course, come on,” he said and made an attempt to drag her away, but Clara was already following on her own accord.  
“Have you had some of that sherbet because you seem way too excited,” she laughed when John kicked off his shoes and climbed on the castle. He looked like an overgrown child pretending very hard to be an adult by wearing a suit.  
Still chuckling Clara took off her own shoes and followed his example until she was standing right next to him.  
“Just so you know, we look utterly ridiculous right now,” she told him when he started jumping, propelling her up with him as he did. After a moment it even became fun. Sort of. Okay, she had to admit that it actually was fun.  
“Ha! You like it,” he said triumphantly.  
“Shut up,” she glared at him. It didn't last long, however, because soon the laughter was back. “Bet you can't jump as high as I can!”  
Clara used the momentum to propel herself upwards and John immediately joined in their contest and to her dismay he was beating her at it.  
“I can reach the ceiling, look!” he said breathlessly and bounced as high as he could, just brushing the castle ceiling with his fingertips.  
“Not fair!” Clara complained loudly, “You're taller than I am!”  
Suddenly she was knocked off her feet when John jumped at her, closing his arms around her and throwing them both down on the floor. They burst into laughter before John bent forward and pressed a swift kiss to her lips.  
“Imagine having sex on this,” John chuckled.  
“Shush,” Clara hushed him instantly, still giggling, “Melody might hear you.”  
“Good point,” he agreed and fell silent for a moment, “Still an interesting idea though.”  
“Which we are not trying out now,” Clara said in a playfully sharp tone as she sat back up, “We should probably go inside. Everyone else is already having dinner and I don't wanna miss that. I'm starving.”  
“Same actually,” John replied and lifted himself up, helping Clara down from the bouncy castle.

While John excused himself to go to the bathroom Clara joined Amy in the kitchen and glanced at the food she was preparing for her guests. She had hoped that it would already be finished, but at the sight of the steaks Clara suddenly realized that she wasn't as hungry as originally thought and made the decision to try the salad first. Her hand reached into the bowl and nicked a piece of cucumber.  
“So, you and John,” Amy started once more, “You seem great.”  
Clara let out a hearty sigh and a smile spread across her face. “We are,” she confirmed, “John is amazing. True, it wasn't easy, but we're getting there. He hasn't changed at all. He's still the man I fell in love with five years ago.”  
She turned around and beamed at her friend because she couldn't help it. She was just so happy that it was all working out.  
“So he's moved back in at last? Good for you,” Amy concluded.  
“No,” Clara replied, frowning, “He's still living with Missy.”  
Still Amy smiled at her in response. “Well, I'm sure it's only a matter if time,” she said and took the bowl to carry it into the living room where the other guests where waiting, leaving Clara on her own and suddenly very thoughtful.  
Things had been going extremely well between her and John and she didn't really see a reason why he still hadn't moved back in. He had told her that it would be soon, but over a month had passed since and he hadn't even mentioned the topic with a single syllable. Maybe he was really falling in love with her. But what if that wasn't enough? What if he had no intention of ever moving back in? What if John wasn't at all serious about them?  
All this time Clara had assumed that their love was strong, that they would go back to the way it had been before the accident. But what if that was just an illusion, just a nice thought? What if John would never truly come back to her?


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the comments. . . oh dear, there's still some things in store for them, I'm afraid. . .

John smelled the flowers as he made his way from the car to the front door and wrinkled his nose at the large bouquet. He should have requested nice smelling flowers, but either he was coming down with a cold and his sense of smell was already lost or they didn't give off any scent at all. Either way, they were at least pretty to look at and John was sure that Clara would like them.  
However, when she opened the door John found her agitated and quite nervous and his hopes of having a date night instantly faded away. Something was up.  
“Is everything alright?” he asked instantly upon seeing her face.  
Yet Clara's gaze wandered to the flowers. “Are those for me?”  
“Yes,” John replied with a proud grin. He had chosen the largest and prettiest bouquet of them all just because he had felt like doing something nice for Clara. “Do you like them?”  
Finally Clara cracked a smile as he handed her the flowers. “They're gorgeous. Thank you!” she said sincerely and smelled them, immediately wrinkling her nose as well, “Okay, the smell is. . . well, it takes some getting used to. But they're still gorgeous. Why though? What's the occasion?”  
“Well, I passed the florist's on my way here and thought,” John paused, “I didn't really think, to be honest. I was just hoping you might like them.”  
“I do,” Clara confirmed with a smile and pushed herself up on tiptoes to peck him on the cheek, “Thank you.”

When Clara turned around John followed her inside the house and watched as she found a vase for the bouquet, but still he couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was wrong.  
“Clara, is everything okay? You seem-”  
She turned around in an instant before he could even finish the sentence, staring at him through large, terrified looking eyes. “I've asked Bonnie here,” she blurted out and his hopes of spending a night out with Clara immediately went down the drain.  
“Oh, but that's-,” he paused, “That's good. You'll get to talk.”  
“No, it's not good,” she complained loudly and started pacing the kitchen floor, “It's terrible. I don't wanna talk to Bonnie. I don't wanna see her. I don't even know why I've asked her to come here. This is terrible.”  
John stepped forward and gently reached out to take both her hands, finally causing Clara to come to a halt. She inhaled deeply and he could clearly see how upset she was about the impending meeting with her sister. There had to be a way John could calm her down.  
“Clara, darling, it's going to be fine,” he said calmly, “If you don't wanna do it alone, I can stay. I'll be right here with you.”  
“Thanks,” she whispered sincerely and then took a deep breath once more, “I know you think I should talk to Bonnie, I know it probably won't be as bad as I'm imagining it, but I've spent the past few nights thinking about everything she did to us, everything she said and I'm worried and nervous about what's going to happen when she shows up here and that worry is starting to make me nauseous.”  
“Hey,” John said softly and stepped a little closer, pulling Clara into a tight embrace, “I'm right here, remember? It'll be fine. She's your sister, not a monster.”  
“And you've really checked,” she remarked gruffly.  
John looked down at her and a frown wrinkled his forehead as he let her go. “Why are you bringing that up now? You know I wanted to kiss you and not Bonnie.”  
“I'm sorry,” Clara apologized instantly and held out her arms, “Please, hug me again.”  
He didn't hesitate to pull her back into the embrace and he couldn't help but utter a soft laugh at her state. She really was nervous about meeting her sister, but John was absolutely certain that it would be good for her, for them both. It was unlikely that they would become friends, but maybe they finally managed to bury the hatchet.  
“I've spoken to Bonnie before and I sincerely believe that her intentions are good,” John told her.  
Clara raised her head to look at him, but she didn't let go. “Why _did_ you speak to her?”  
“Well, obviously I can't tell you about our meeting before my accident. I think your grandmother let me know that she was in town and I just. . . I don't know. I suppose I wanted to help you,” he explained, “I was going to give Bonnie some money to start over, but then the accident happened and I forgot. I only later figured out that the cheque was meant for her, so I went to talk to her about that.”  
She grumbled in response. “Why are you such a decent person? It's annoying.”  
John was about to reply when the doorbell interrupted his attempt to speak and Clara stepped away from him, inhaling deeply.  
“It's gonna be fine,” he reassured her before Clara went to open the door.

John sat on the sofa right next to Clara whereas Bonnie chose to sit on the chair on the other end of the coffee table, keeping a safe distance between the sisters. He reached for Clara's hand and squeezed it softly. He was sure that it was going to be fine even though neither of them spoke for a very long moment.  
“I think I owe you an apology,” Bonnie started eventually, “And it's long overdue.”  
“Oh, you _think_?”  
John gave her hand another squeeze, reminding her to be nice. She was really edgy.  
“Alright, go on,” she said.  
Bonnie nodded softly. “There is no excuse for my behaviour as a teenager and I'm really sorry that I've caused you and Dad so much trouble after Mum died, but at that time I felt extremely alone.”  
“You weren't alone, Bonnie, you had us! And you chose to push us away!”  
“I know that now,” she argued, “But I was just a kid. I felt alone, I felt like I didn't really belong and I missed Mum. I know that I was a brat, I've realized that later than I should have, but, you know, you've got a lot of time to think when you're in prison.”  
John felt Clara tense up under his touch.  
“So, that's really what you've come here for? No hidden agenda, no other motive?” she asked in disbelief.  
Bonnie gave a soft smile in response. “When I was in prison I realized that the people I had thought were my friends had all abandoned me. I had no one and, before you say it, I know I'm the only one to blame for that. So I called the only person I knew who would listen to me.”  
“Grandma,” Clara finished her sentence.  
Her sister nodded.  
“You can't expect me to pretend that nothing happened. You were awful, Bonnie, not even to me as much as to Dad. He tried his best to help you and you repaid him by getting into more trouble,” she replied and John heard her exhale sharply as her shoulders sank, “I remember the conversations we had about you, how often he came into my room, crying, asking me what he should do, asking me what he had done wrong. I hated you. Not because you were a bitch towards me, I hated you for what you put Dad through.”  
“I'm sorry,” Bonnie replied ruefully.  
“We can't be friends, Bonnie,” she went on and when John looked at her sister he saw the disappointment on her face, “Not right now. I need to be sure that you really mean it. I won't promise anything before I can see that you've truly changed.”  
“That seems fair,” she agreed quietly, “And I really appreciate that you listened to me. I didn't expect anything else.”  
Suddenly Clara's hand was gone as she rose to her feet and crossed the room to the shelf from which she retrieved the box Bonnie had given her through John. Carefully she approached her sister and handed it back. Bonnie looked up at Clara, apparently not really sure what was happening.  
“You should have this back,” Clara said, “Mind you, I kept the ring. You were never a jewellery person, but you should have the photos. She was your Mum as well as mine.”  
With a smile Bonnie took the box out of her hands. “You know there's such a thing as digital copies?”  
“It's a nice gesture,” Clara said brusquely, “Just accept it.”  
“Alright,” Bonnie replied with a smile, “Thank you.”

Once Bonnie had left, John and Clara both sank down on the sofa with a heavy sigh and she instantly leaned her head against his chest. Gently John laid his arm around her in a comforting gesture.  
“I think it went well,” he said, “What about you? You don't seem happy.”  
“I'm not. I don't know why,” she replied and raised her head to look at him, “Can we stay inside, eat lots of unhealthy food and watch a movie?”  
With a smile John bent down and placed a kiss on her lips. “Absolutely, darling.”


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments :) And now is the time for Whiteasy to say "I told you so" because she saw it coming ;)

“Oh no,” Clara uttered as she stared at the little stick she was holding in her hands. That tiny thing that was about to throw her entire life completely off balance. “Oh no. No no no no no no. Not now.”  
She flung the bringer of news across the room she had been pacing for five whole minutes where it made a shattering sound while she sank down on the sofa. Breathing. Breathing was probably a good idea.  
Clara had battled a lot in her life. The loss of her mother, an unruly twin sister, university and teaching a bunch of teenagers, her husband's accident and now, for the first time, she had no idea what to do next. The news couldn't have come at a worse time, so Clara did the only thing she could think of and reached for her phone.

Amy came round just half an hour later and Clara instantly flung her arms around her friend in a tight hug, desperate for some sort of comfort and she couldn't get that from John right now.  
“Clara what's the matter?” her friend asked, her voice so full of compassion and also worry, “You sounded so agitated on the phone.”  
She released Amy from the embrace and looked at her for a long moment. “I need to show you something,” Clara replied and turned around to walk back inside the house. She couldn't say it. Speaking about it out loud only made it more real.  
She found the test where she had left it after she had picked it off the floor again. Clara would have loved to just leave it there and ignore it, but this wasn't the sort of problem that would go away on its own. No, it would only grow bigger.  
Wordlessly she handed Amy the test and waited for her friend's reaction.  
“Oh my God,” she uttered right before a large smile spread across her face, “It finally worked! You're pregnant!”  
Clara stepped back when Amy made an attempt to hug her again. “That's not good news,” she argued, “Stop smiling!”  
“What do you mean?” her friend asked, followed by an insecure, confused laugh, “You've been trying for a child for ages.”  
“Yes, before the accident!” Clara spat, “Everything has changed and I can't believe we've been stupid enough not to use protection!”  
Why hadn't they used protection? Clara couldn't even say. Maybe a part of her had thought that after trying for over a year there was no way it would happen now. But it had happened and now she had to think of something. If only she could confide in John.  
“Clara, it's going to be fine,” Amy tried to reassure her, “John loves you.”  
“Does he?” she asked, the panic audible in her voice, “I'm not so sure about that. He's never said it, not after the accident. All he said was that he's falling in love with me. That's not the same thing and it's certainly not enough to make him move back in!”  
Her friend granted her a compassionate smile. “I think you're making this worse than it actually is. Have you told John about the baby yet?”  
“No because he won't want it, I know that!” Clara sighed and sank down on the sofa, “I know it and I get why. He hardly knows me, he's just in for a good time, but he doesn't want anything serious. If I tell him, it's only going to push him further away.”  
Amy sat down next to her and gently laid her arm around Clara's shoulder. “I doubt it. I've seen you two and, yes, maybe the timing could have been better, but John would never abandon his wife and child. You know that.”  
Clara turned her head to look at her and she would have loved to believe Amy. It was true, John was a good man, but she doubted that his goodness would go that far. “I think he's abandoned me already.”  
“Oh Clara,” Amy sighed as Clara leaned her head against her friend's shoulder. She just wanted to cry the problem away, but that wouldn't work, would it? While the tears came running down her cheeks, Clara tried to determine the moment her life had become such a mess and right now she couldn't even tell.

* * *

John was sitting in his room, playing a sweet melody on his guitar while he considered packing it for their weekend trip to Scotland next week. Clara had said she had always loved to hear him play, so that would probably make her happy. And that was what he wanted above all – to make his wife happy.  
Then suddenly the door to his room burst open and Missy barged in without even knocking. “Okay, I said I'd give you time, but seriously,” she glowered at him, “You need to move out.”  
With a sigh John set the guitar aside. “Hello Missy, thanks for knocking,” he replied.  
“When are you going to move back in with Clara?” his best friend demanded to know and John couldn't help the smile that spread all over his face.  
“Soon, I expect.”  
“You've been saying that for weeks. When exactly is _soon_?”  
Still John smiled at her. “We're going on a little trip next week on Friday,” he explained, “I was thinking to view that as a sort of trial run. If it goes well, I'll pack my bags on Sunday.”  
“Alright,” Missy agreed and plopped down on the bed next to him, “Any new memories?”  
“Uh, no, just snippets,” he replied, “Bits. Small fragments. Not the whole thing. I was hoping they'd come back.”  
“Well, what if they don't?” Missy wanted to know.  
John turned to look at her and cracked a smile once more as he shrugged. “Then they won't. Ultimately, I don't think it's going to make that much of a difference. I've chosen Clara. Twice. I love her.”  
His friend uttered a sigh. “You're such a hopeless romantic, John Smith.”  
He grinned in reply. “Yes, I am,” he said, “Did I ever properly thank you? For setting me up with Clara?”  
“You may have said it once or twice.”  
“Well, I mean it,” John replied earnestly, “That was the nicest thing you've ever done for me.”  
Missy looked at him for a long moment as if she was trying to determine something and John really wasn't sure what she would say next. Missy was unpredictable to him. Then suddenly she nudged him in the ribs.  
“Ow!” John complained loudly, “What was that for?”  
“That was for being an idiot for so long, twice!” she scolded him, “You love her, so tell her and move back in with her!”  
“I will,” John confirmed, “But I don't want it to happen in passing. I want it to be special. Don't you think Clara deserves that after everything I've put her through?”  
With another sigh Missy shook her head. “Like I said, hopeless romantic,” she said and rose to her feet, “Go practise your love song for the weekend. Don't let me keep you from it.”

When Missy had left his room John reached for his guitar once more and continued practising the song even though he couldn't even tell where it had come from. It was just a melody that went through his head while he was lying in bed at night, thinking about Clara. Yes, it really was time to move back in with her and John vowed to give her the news during their weekend in Scotland.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments - and the scream as well :D Well, well, well, how could this possibly turn out?

John smiled at Clara once he had lifted their suitcase out of the boot and gotten a good look at the small, cosy house in front of them. It seemed like an ideal spot for a holiday, even though the weather was a bit colder than they had expected at this time of the year.  
“It's gonna be a wonderful weekend,” John said excitedly as he made his way towards the house, “We can go for a nice walk, maybe drive to Edinburgh tomorrow for some sightseeing. The city is beautiful and I know some corners that I know you'd love. What do you think?”  
When John looked at Clara, however, he didn't see the same enthusiasm on her face that he currently felt. She looked sceptical, moody even.  
“Is everything alright?” he asked.  
“I'm cold,” she complained grumpily, but fortunately John had the solution for that. He opened the door to the back seat and pulled a warm parka out of the car before he draped it around Clara's shoulders. Nothing, not even the weather, would ruin this weekend that he had laid out perfectly in his head. Yet even the coat didn't seem to lift Clara's spirits.  
“Come on, let's go inside and have a cup of tea,” he suggested carefully and while Clara nodded in agreement John lifted the suitcase back up and proceeded to carry it inside.

The interior of the house was as lovely has he had imagined it, maybe even better than that. It held a large sofa, a fireplace, a small kitchen and when he looked further into the corridor he spotted two more doors for what he assumed were the bathroom and bedroom. John dropped the suitcase on the bedroom floor and walked back into the kitchen where Clara was already busy at the kettle and he smiled as he approached her and closed his arms around her waist from behind.  
“This weekend was a great idea,” he whispered happily and lowered his head to place a soft kiss on her neck.  
However, to his surprise, Clara pulled away from his embrace and John stepped back, eyeing her closely.  
“Clara, are you sure that everything is alright?” he asked once more. He couldn't help but think that something about her was odd and had been all week. Before that they had both been looking forward to their little trip.  
Clara sighed and turned to look at him and yet she didn't actually look at him but some spot on the wall next to his head. “I've had an awful week. I'm exhausted, I'm cold, I'm hungry,” she complained, “I'm sorry, I don't wanna ruin the trip.”  
“Okay,” John granted her a smile as he approached the counter and filled her tea mug with boiling water before he handed it to her, “You will take this and sit on the sofa while I make dinner. Nothing is going to ruin this weekend, especially not exhaustion and hunger, so go and rest while I prepare the food.”  
Clara opened her mouth to protest, but John reached for her arms and turned her to face the living room.  
“Sofa, now,” he said and pecked her on the cheek.  
“Fine,” Clara growled in reply and John watched her leave the kitchen. No, he wouldn't let anything come between him and his utterly romantic weekend because if everything went according to plan he wouldn't go back to Missy's place on Sunday night. He would finally go to live with his wife again.  
Just half an hour later John joined Clara in the living room, carrying two large plates filled with steaming, delicious pasta and he handed Clara one of them.  
“Ugh, that smells good,” she uttered and instantly took the plate out of his hands to start eating. She really seemed hungry and John hoped that dinner would lighten her mood at least a little.  
“Do you like it?”  
“It's amazing,” she mumbled, her mouth full of pasta.  
Feeling good about himself, John leaned back on the sofa and took the first fork full of pasta in his mouth. Yes, his cooking skills had definitely improved over the past five years and he assumed that he owed that to Clara as well.

They retreated to bed fairly early and John didn't even mind so much when he closed his arm tightly around Clara. He felt just as tired as she was after a busy day in his practice, but at least it meant that they could get an early start on Saturday. He had so many things planned for Saturday. A lovely breakfast, a trip to Edinburgh, a nice walk through the surrounding landscape and hopefully, if they weren't too tired, some activities inside the bedroom. Because of their busy schedules he hadn't spent the night at her place in a week and he missed her. He didn't miss just the sex, but the intimacy that surrounded it, or just holding her like he was right now. It was perfect, Clara was perfect.  
“Good night, darling,” he whispered softly.  
“Night,” Clara mumbled sleepily and soon John began to drift off.

Due to his exhaustion John was surprised when he woke up and the clock on the bedside table told him that it was only shortly after 6. He was even more surprised to find Clara's side of the bed empty.  
When he heard a sound from the direction of the bathroom, John threw the duvet aside and started to follow the sound until he could hear the flushing of the toilet. Okay, that was a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why Clara wasn't in bed. She had simply gone to the loo. He was just about to turn around and head back to bed when the bathroom door opened and Clara emerged onto the corridor. When he saw her, the worry instantly rose back up inside of John. Clara looked utterly exhausted and pale.  
“Are you okay?” he asked instantly and Clara raised her head, furrowing her brows into a deep frown.  
“Did you follow me?”  
“No, I was just-” he attempted to defend himself, but Clara immediately continued.  
“Can't I at least have a bit of privacy on the loo?!” she spat, “Who are you? My mother?”  
“I wasn't following you. Not on purpose. I-” he broke off, wondering why on earth they were fighting about this. “Clara, are you sure you're okay? You look really ill.”  
“Thanks a lot,” she grumbled and walked past him, back in the direction of the bedroom.  
When John followed her, he found her already lying in bed, her arms crossed in front of her chest. She was cross with him and ill and for some reason the combination worried him. He remained standing there, just looking at her for a long moment.  
“Is it something that I did?” he asked.  
He heard Clara groaned. “No,” she replied, “Just come back to bed.”  
Reluctantly John did as he was told and lifted the duvet to lie back down next to her, yet he was too afraid to actually touch her.  
“You know, you can tell me,” he said quietly, “Whatever it is. If it's because of me or work, anything.”  
Clara turned around in bed and when she smiled at him John could tell that it was forced even in the dim morning light. “It's nothing,” she said and leaned forward to peck him on the lips, “Let's go back to sleep.”  
John was about to open his mouth and go on, but Clara had already closed her eyes, ending their discussion before he was finished. He sighed heavily. The weekend had sounded so wonderful in his head and now he had no idea how he should do everything he had planned to do. Telling her that he loved her, that he wanted to move back in, it should be something special. He couldn't do it now. Not like this. His only hope was that the rest of the weekend would be better than this.


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments :) Oh-oh. . . there's more trouble in paradise

Clara felt terrible for the way she had been acting all weekend and yet she couldn't find it in her heart to just enjoy it. Not only were the hormones wrecking havoc with her body, no, the nausea she was constantly trying to suppress kept nagging her, making it impossible for her to even relax for an hour. John was making a real effort to make this weekend a nice one and yet the simplest thing caused her to lose it. And above all it annoyed her that John hadn't even mentioned moving back in with her with a single word. Of course he hadn't because that was not what he wanted, so it was fairly obvious that he wouldn't want their child either. Deep in her heart Clara knew that she had to tell him eventually, preferably sooner rather than later, but there was that deep rooted fear inside of her, that fear that the child they had wanted so much just a year ago would drive an even deeper rift between them until he ultimately left her for good.  
Why did she have to get pregnant now? They had actively tried for over a year and even before that they had left out the protection because they wouldn't have minded a child. But it hadn't worked and Clara had even started to consider the possibility that she couldn't get pregnant at all. Well, she had obviously been wrong and now it was too late for regrets. John would be terrified and he would feel pressured and he would leave. Clara was certain of it. The only thing she could do now was to keep it a secret and postpone the inevitable.

Clara flinched when John suddenly took her hand and squeezed it softly. She hadn't even noticed him enter the kitchen.  
“I've finished packing,” he said and smiled gently, “You're making one last cup of tea?”  
“That was the plan,” she replied and forced a smile as well.  
“I've been thinking,” John went on while he closed his arms around her waist. Clara loved that feeling when he held her and she was afraid that it was going to end very soon. She would lose him, she knew she would. “Maybe next time we could go straight to Edinburgh. Just a few hours seemed a bit rushed for the entire city.”  
“Sounds good,” she lied and uttered a sound of surprise when John suddenly lifted her up to sit on the counter. He bent forward until their lips brushed in a soft, gentle kiss and Clara almost melted away under his touch. He had been so perfect throughout the weekend, always asking whether she was alright, always being attentive, cooking her dinner, bringing her tea, even massaging her feet last night when they had felt sore after the walk.  
Then John pulled away and looked at her, his expression serious now. “I'm sorry the weekend wasn't what you had expected.”  
“It's not your fault,” she told him instantly. It really wasn't. It wasn't his fault that he had lost his memory and he couldn't find his way back into his old life. No one was to blame for that. Clara couldn't even be mad at him about it. There was just sadness and regret.  
“I feel like it is,” he argued and reached out to cup her face in his hands. This sweet gesture made her want to cry. “I could have tried harder. I could have. . . I don't know. Clara?”  
She had tried to stop them, but the tears were already running down her cheeks. John was too sweet and the fear of losing him was growing too much to bear. Clara would never find another man like him. A single mother, sad, bitter – that was how she was going to end up.  
“Hey, Clara, don't cry,” he whispered softly as he wiped the tears from her face, “It's okay.”  
“No, it's not,” she sobbed, “I'm sorry. I'm a mess.”  
He placed a swift kiss on her lips before he closed his arms around her in a warm embrace and Clara hugged him as tightly as she could. It would all go to ruin, just like John had feared. This weekend would have been the perfect opportunity for them to get closer, to talk about living together again, but he hadn't made a single move. Not one.

* * *

Clara said very little on their way home and she was glad that John didn't seem in a very talkative mood either. Or maybe he was just waiting for them to arrive at home to continue asking questions she didn't really want to answer just yet. There was no word that could express how terrified she was when she even thought about confessing her pregnancy to John, but she had to do it soon before it became obvious and he would figure it out on his own. Although, knowing John, that could probably take a while.  
When finally they came to a halt after a long drive Clara heard John sigh next to her and she just knew that the discussion wasn't over.  
“Would you like me to come inside?” he asked and to her surprise he was smiling at her.  
Clara opened her mouth, but John cut her off before she even had a chance to speak.  
“Okay, that look on your face tells me it's a no,” he added.  
“Sorry,” Clara apologized.  
John inhaled sharply and raised his hands to his head, rubbing his face, before he stared at the house ahead of them. Their house. The house that John refused to move back into.  
“Are you absolutely sure it's nothing that I've done?” he asked her and he sounded desperate. John turned his head to look at her. “Something that I did or said? Something that's bothering you? Did I forget something? An anniversary? A birthday? I'm sorry if I did, but please just tell me. I feel like there's something going wrong and I want to fix it.”  
“It's not you-”  
“If it's not me, then what it is? Clara, I'm begging you,” he implored her, “Is there someone else? Have you changed your mind about us? Clara-”  
“I'm pregnant,” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

The moment she had said those words Clara knew she couldn't stick around to see the look on his face. She didn't want to see his reaction, so she turned around and darted out of the car and across the front lawn, only stopping when the front door was firmly closed and locked behind her. She couldn't face John. Not now.


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the amazing comments, all of you :* ! So, you wanted to know what happens next? You will. . . and I'm sorry *goes into hiding*

John watched her run, dumbfounded, and it took him a very long moment until her words had finally sunk in. Pregnant. Clara was pregnant. He was going to be a father.  
John swallowed hard, trying to determine what it meant for him, for them both. Of course! It all made sense now. Her mood swings, her pale face when she had come out of the bathroom yesterday morning, but it didn't explain why she hadn't told him straight away, why she had been so reluctant to come out with it at all. He needed to talk to her.  
As he made his way towards the house John had no idea why Clara had run away, but he was certain that he was going to find out any moment. Then he pushed down the door handle and found it locked.  
“Clara,” he called through the door, “Clara, the door is locked. My key is at Missy's.”  
“Go away!” she told him from the other side of the door, followed by sobbing.  
John tried the door again, but it wouldn't budge. “Please, open the door. We need to talk!”  
When he pressed his ear against the door, John could hear more sobbing, but at least he was sure that Clara was still there, listening to him. He had to get through to her somehow, had to make her open the door. They desperately needed to talk and not just about the child she was carrying. John had to tell her that he was moving back in this instant.  
“Clara,” he said, his voice softer now but still loud enough to be heard on the other side of the door, “Please. Just unlock the door so I can come in.”  
“Oh, so _now_ you wanna be here?!” she spat, followed by a sniffing sound.  
“Please, let's just talk,” John begged her.  
“Go away,” she repeated and John heard some shuffling on the other side.  
“I won't, not until you let me in!”  
There was a pause and for a moment John even hoped that Clara would reconsider and actually unlock the door to let him in, but then she spoke again, her voice small and broken.  
“It's okay, John,” she said, “I get it. I understand why you can't move back in, but that also means you don't want the child. It's just not enough. I had hoped it would be, but it's not. I don't want to force you into anything you don't want.”  
“Clara!” John knocked furiously on the door and once more tried to rattle the door handle, but it stayed firmly closed.  
“I'm gonna step away from the door now,” Clara said, “See you. . . some time.”  
“Clara!” he shook the door handle more firmly, but it just wouldn't budge, “Clara!”  
He tried to knock once again and when John glanced away for a moment he could see the neighbour staring at him. No, that wasn't how he would get inside this house. Clara was upset and confused and she had it all wrong. But somehow he needed to make her see.

* * *

John drove back to Missy's place in a hurry, disregarding several red lights, but right now he really didn't care about that. He needed to get his key and he needed to get back to Clara as quickly as possible.  
He stormed into the house and immediately headed inside his room, ignoring Missy's questions about how the weekend had gone while he retrieved his suitcase from under the bed. Without really paying attention to the order John simply threw everything he could find inside his bag, hoping he could still close it once he was done.  
“Okay, okay, I get it, you're moving out. That's great,” Missy said as she appeared in the doorway, “But is it really that urgent that you can't slow down for a second to say hello?”  
John kept ignoring her. Telling Missy would take too long. He really didn't have the time for that, not right now. Instead he grabbed his pile of shirts and was about to throw it into the suitcase when Missy stepped into his way and slammed the lid of the suitcase shut.  
“Hey!” John complained loudly.  
But instead of letting him pack the rest of his things Missy sat down – right on top of his suitcase.  
“Missy, please,” he begged, “I really need to go back to Clara.”  
“Better tell me quickly then,” she replied and put on a disgustingly broad smile.  
John sighed heavily and racked his brain for a way to get Missy off his suitcase without using violence, but he couldn't come up with one. He knew her too well to know she wouldn't budge. “Clara is pregnant.”  
“Okay, come here,” Missy said and reached for his arm.  
“Let me go, I need to pa-”  
“Shush and sit,” she told him sharply and pulled him down to sit on the bed next to her. When she spoke again her voice sounded a lot calmer. “Okay, John, I need to you take a deep breath. Come on, humour me.”  
Since Missy was still occupying his suitcase John thought he had little choice and did as he was told. Deep breath. Clara was pregnant. He was going to be a father. Another deep breath. All of a sudden a smile spread across his face at the thought of it. They had wanted that, they had wanted to start a family and the desire had been so strong that he had been able to feel it even after his accident. Now their wish would finally come true.  
“There we go,” Missy said happily.  
“I'm gonna be a father,” John said and started to chuckle, “It's actually happening.”  
“Yes, and Clara will still be pregnant if you arrive five minutes later, so tell my why you're so freaked out.”  
John inhaled deeply, the smile instantly leaving his face. “We had a fight. The weekend, everything just went wrong and now Clara thinks I don't want to move back in. She thinks I don't want the child. I need to prove to her that she couldn't be more wrong.”  
“And you will, I'm sure of that,” his friend replied and jumped up from his suitcase, “Now, need help packing?”  
John beamed at her as he rose back to his feet, feeling at lot better after he had spoken to Missy. Clara would see that he was serious and they would finally have the baby they had wanted for so long. Everything was going to be just perfect.

When John was back inside the car and driving towards their house he knew that he had all the time in the world, that five minutes wouldn't make any difference at all. He had calmed down, but still he just couldn't wait to get back to Clara and tell her just how much he loved her. He was just about to imagine what it would be like to finally hold his son or daughter in his arms when a car suddenly came out of nowhere and all he heard was the screeching of tires before a deafening bang rang through his ears and the whole world went black.


	42. Epilogue

Clara looked at the clock when she heard a key being turned inside the lock and she immediately rose to her feet. She hadn't John expected to come back, not when it was almost midnight already and she would look utterly ridiculous if he saw her like this. There was an empty bowl of chocolate ice cream on the coffee table among countless used tissues. Clara was in her pyjamas, her eyes red from crying and she only just managed to wipe the remainders of the ice cream from the corners of her mouth when he stepped inside the house.  
“John,” she blurted out as she approached him, “What are you doing here?”  
In response he dropped his suitcase on the floor.  
Clara looked up at him and only now that he had stepped into the light she could see that his hand was bandaged and that there was a plaster taped over his forehead. His nose looked like it had been bleeding as well.  
“Oh my God, what happened to you?” Clara asked instantly, the worry for him stronger than anything else right now as she reached out to inspect the cut on his forehead.  
“I had an accident on the way, but it doesn't matter,” he replied, “I'm back.”  
“I can see that, but-”  
“No, Clara, I'm back,” he breathed, staring right at her, “And I'm not going to leave. Ever.”  
Clara only stared at him in disbelief, but she couldn't help but smile at his words. Yes, he was back and he looked terrible and she didn't understand what on earth was going on. Back for how long? Back why? But John already continued.  
“I don't remember it all and I don't care if the rest of my memories will ever come back or not because it really doesn't matter,” he smiled at her, “I love you, Clara. I love you with all my heart and nothing is going to change that. It's true, I took a while, a long while. I needed to get to know you and when I did I wanted to take it slow because I wanted to enjoy every single moment of falling in love with you. That's over. I am in love, have been for a while and I was stupid and selfish because I wanted to wait. I wanted to make it special for you, for us. And then-”  
John broke off and pointed at her stomach, smiling broadly.  
“We're gonna be a family,” he chuckled, “A real family. You know, when I saw the photo of us in my office for the first time I knew there was something missing. A child, Clara. I wanted a child and even though I couldn't remember wanting it I still did. And I still love you.”  
A load seemed to drop off her shoulders when Clara saw John smile. It wasn't fake, he wasn't doing it because he felt he needed to. He was happy, actually happy.  
“So, you're on board with this?” she asked just to be entirely sure she wasn't imagining things. She just needed to be certain.  
Instead of replying John stepped forward and kissed her swiftly before he lifted her up, but he only managed to spin her around once before Clara was lowered to the floor once again. John winced in pain and reached for his wrist.  
“Okay, time to tell me what happened,” Clara said strictly, “Why are you bandaged?”  
The bandage around his wrist was just a loose one, but still someone seemed to have felt the need to apply it to his hand.  
“Like I said, I've been in an accident. I'm sorry about the car,” John gave her an apologetic look, “I'm afraid that is beyond repair.”  
“I don't care about the car,” Clara gawked at him and before he could doge her, Clara gave him a soft punch in the ribs.  
“Ow!”  
“Stop getting into accidents!”  
“I said I was sorry,” John said defensively, “I'm okay. Just a small cut on the forehead and my wrist is sprained. It'll be fine.”  
Clara threw her arms around his chest before she could think better of it and hugged him as tightly as humanly possible. He was back. John was finally back and this time he wouldn't leave. It was fine, it was finally okay after months of waiting and hoping. In her relief she couldn't help but cry.  
“I love you,” she whispered against his chest, “I love you and I'm never going to let you go.”  
“I love you, too,” John sighed and placed a kiss on her head as he wrapped his arms around her back as well. “And I promise I'll try to stop being an idiot now.”  
Clara chuckled. “I'd like to see that,” she replied, but suddenly she thought of something and raised her head to look at him. “Hang on, if you wrecked our car, how did you get here?”  
John frowned. “I walked,” he said, deadpan.  
Clara shook her head and buried her face in his shirt once more. It didn't matter. John was here now.  
“Darling,” he said after a moment, “You know, I'd love to discuss decorating the nursery and baby names and all of that, but I'm really, really tired. Can we please just go to bed?”  
Clara smiled to herself and she tightened her grip around him. “In a moment,” she replied, “Let me just enjoy this for one more minute.”  
But instead of letting her John cupped her face in both his hands and bent down for a long, sweet kiss. Clara realized that he was right in everything he had said. It didn't matter if he never regained his full memory. They had each other, they had a baby on the way. They would make tons of new memories and it was going to be better than it had been ever before because finally all of their dreams were coming true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so, so, so much for reading and commenting on this story!!! You are the best readers one could ask for and I'm giving you all a big cyber-hug! Really, I can't express how happy every single one of your comments makes me!
> 
> Now, I have good news and bad news for you. The bad news is: I'm going to take a tiny, little break from romantic Whouffaldi AUs for a bit. It's not like I'm out of ideas, I certainly have some in store, both Whouffaldi and Colepaldi and I have plans to write them, just not right away. And the reason for that is the good news *grins like an idiot while writing this*.  
> Two years ago a friend and I started planning and writing our own (sort of) Doctor Who season with a companion of our own. It started as a joke long before Pearl was announced or before S9 even aired when he talked about what we wanted for the new companion and we ended up liking her so much that we started to put her into stories. I am going to write the first few "episodes" whereas my friend will cover the others, so the first "episode" is the story I am going to start publishing tomorrow and I really, really hope to see you all again for that one because I am extremely excited to finally write the story properly after two years. But do not worry: the story begins straight after "Hell Bent" and there is going to be Whouffaldi in there (because I just can't help myself) and it might just bring a little tear to your eye - but enough about that. You will see/read what I'm talking about.


End file.
